


You're crashing, but you're no wave

by MoonflowerKuroo



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Ships will be added, Street artist and saxophone player Bokuto, artist akaashi, i love akaashi's cat
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-24
Updated: 2017-07-17
Packaged: 2018-08-24 09:52:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 33,983
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8367853
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MoonflowerKuroo/pseuds/MoonflowerKuroo
Summary: “Man must behave like a lighthouse; he must shine day and night for the goodness of everyman.” He loved his lighthouse. His little screwed binoculars on the slightly rust railing that totally needed a paint job, his cat that sat with him while he painted. His fluffy clothes and sunlight room in the summer and spring. His balcony where he could sketch and paint whatever he wanted, selling it at the markets later in the coming weeks. He truly loved it.





	1. No Violence, thank you!

**Author's Note:**

> this is my first time trying a chaptered fic so feedback would be appreciated!! the first chapter is a little messy i think but i tried,,
> 
> the title is a fall out boy song ahhahaha

Akaashi wouldn’t think of himself as a violent person. He liked soft spoken people, calm waters, warm colours and fluffy sweaters. He liked to be calm, just as the waves are near his lighthouse.

He lives in a lighthouse. It was just off the coast of a bay, with a small housing unit next to it when he wanted to bathe or take a break from the heights.

He loved his lighthouse. His little screwed binoculars on the slightly rust railing that totally needed a paint job, his cat that sat with him while he painted. His fluffy clothes and sunlight room in the summer and spring. His balcony where he could sketch and paint whatever he wanted, selling it at the markets later in the coming weeks. He truly loved it. His cat, whose name was Michelangelo (gifted by his twin brother), sat with him wherever he went in the light house. He was a small Japanese bobtail cat, with ginger patches and mismatched eyes, one blue while the other gold. And he and Akaashi were made for each other. Michelangelo would pose and toss his head whenever Akaashi said he would draw him, giving Akaashi the perfect angels to sketch his kitty in.

But, back to being violent.

Akaashi loved his lighthouse balcony. It was a close favourite next to his bedroom, of course. He loved painting and sketching out there, from dusk till dawn. His balcony wasn’t particularly high, and his friend Kuroo was able to scale the walls and sneak into his bedroom when he needed an out from vandalising. He’d wake Akaashi up and they’d just sit with their legs hanging in between the bars while Kuroo showed him photos of his most recent “artwork” to the city.

“You’re going to get caught some day,” Akaashi would say. His friend would lean back on his elbows and blow out a breath.

“Once Kozume sees it, I’ll stop,” he would reply. Kozume was a famous writer who Kuroo often did works for as fan art. He would put his art up with a quote from one of his stories in hopes the artist would one day see it.

Akaashi would then sigh, being his knees into his chest. Michelangelo would meow from his bed before crawling over to Kuroo and sitting on his chest, his bobtail whisking in Kuroo’s face.

Where was I? Oh, right. Violence.

Like I mentioned before, Akaashi’s balcony wasn’t too high, and possible to get to as Kuroo had done it many times. Though, Akaashi only knew of Kuroo who could do that. But when Kuroo began to tell people that Akaashi’s lighthouse balcony was a “safe place,” the artist began to see red.

People would randomly show up in the night, and Michelangelo had begun to wake Akaashi up with a paw to the chest before running over to the balcony and hissing at whoever was there.

Akaashi had met Terushima, another street artist. He had meet Hanamaki, a daredevil with a death wish and Nishinoya who was a violinist with a taste for vulgar words and boys on the run from his family.

Akaashi didn’t mind half the people who came to his balcony or a joining housing unit. He had ended up painting Nishinoya and had requested he come back to his lighthouse and model for him. Hanamaki had never come back, but often sent post cards that decorated Akaashi’s walls.

After a while Akaashi had gotten used to people passing through. But when he met Bokuto Koutarou, a jazz saxophone player with a nightlife of street art, a lot of things changed. Messy grey black hair that fell in his bright gold eyes, tough fingerless gloved hands for scaling walls just like Akaashi’s lighthouse. Even with three bleeding dark scratches from Michelangelo adoring his cheek, he was beautiful. Even with Akaashi’s blinding anger, he wanted to paint him.

 

The wind blew against the lighthouse. Akaashi had shut the windows and doors, of course, Michelangelo draped over his shoulders as he walked through the lighthouse with nothing but a candle to light his path. The cat twitched at every sound, but Akaashi’s hand on his neck eased him down.

“We’ve survived storms, haven’t we?” he asks, more to himself than anyone. Michelangelo dipped his head against Akaashi’s hand, rolling his coffee fingers over his ears. “That’s right, Michelangelo. We’ll be fine.” Michelangelo purrs against his hand.

Akaashi made his way to his bedroom, his oversized sweater bunching up as he sat cross legged. He knew it was bad to draw in terrible lighting, but he couldn’t help it. The storm that was beginning to rage on outside his window made him want to sketch, so he did.

Michelangelo curled up next to him, purring softly. Lightning crackled, giving Akaashi a few seconds of extra lighting before disappearing. He looked down at his page, glancing back up when the lightning struck again. He sighed, Michelangelo flicking his stubby tail. The lightning cracked again and he glanced up, almost jumping out of his hoodie.

A figure stood on the balcony, hair and clothes soaking wet. He was dressed in all black, howling out to the waves as they crashed. His grey and black hair fell into his eyes but he raked it back, revealing bright gold iris’. His skin was pale, and dash lashes fell against his cheekbones when he closed his eyes. If the rain kept up and kept splashing him, would his colour palette mix together and paint Akaashi’s balcony floor? He was laughing when Akaashi threw open his glass door, a deep scowl on his face.

“What the fuck are you doing?!” he screams, holding a hand up against the rain. The man turns around, his golden eyes wide. His fingers were slightly bloody, even if the rain was attempting furiously to scrub them clean. His lip was red and bloody as well, and his left eye was beginning to bruise.

“Uh-“ the man replies, standing up straight. He hid his hands behind his back and bowed to him, almost slipping on the wet ground. “I don’t mean to intrude! Just- I’m, uh- Passing through?”

Akaashi rolls his eyes, grabbing the man by the shirt and pulling him into his bedroom. Rainwater pools at his feet, his sweater soaking wet along with the entire man’s being. Akaashi’s curls drip as he stares angrily at the mysterious man.

“Do you,” Akaashi begins, “have any idea how long it takes to clean my lighthouse when it’s covered in water?” Although his voice was calm, his eyes were murderous. The man stammered out a pathetic response before Michelangelo hissed and jumped at him from Akaashi’s bed.

“Wrong,” Akaashi deadpans when the man went to grab Michelangelo. The cat jumps from his hands, snarling before running over to Akaashi’s legs. The man held his cheek, three scratches beading with blood from behind his hand.

The man laughs nervously, staring right at Michelangelo. “Beware of the cat, more like!” he exclaims, smiling widely. “Do you teach him that?”

“When people begin to show up on your balcony in the middle of the night, Michelangelo begins to adopt strategies,” Akaashi answers calmly, lifting his chin. “I’m assuming Kuroo-san told you about this place?”

The man stands up straight again. He offered a wet gloved hand before pulling it off with his teeth, his bloody fingers not occurring to him. “I’m Bokuto Koutarou. A friend of Tetsurou’s,” he says, looking into Akaashi’s eyes.  
Akaashi reached to the side, grabbing a tissue and cleaning Bokuto’s fingers quickly before shaking his hand. “Akaashi Keiji. This is my lighthouse, and I’d appreciate it if you left.”

Bokuto stood there dumbfounded as Akaashi passed him, opening his closet and pulling off his drenched sweater. He changes it in for a warm purple one and pulls out his lantern from the base of the wardrobe. He moves over to the candle on his bed, pulling it from its wax hold on the plate and putting it inside the lantern.

“Good luck finding your way home,” he says simply, offering the lantern to Bokuto. The chessboard haired man stared at the lantern before looking up at Akaashi. The artist raised his thick eyebrows, shaking the lantern.

“Take it,” he hisses. Bokuto grabs it quickly before blinking at him. Akaashi tugged on the neck of his sweater, his mouth in a tight line.

“What is it?” Akaashi snaps, startling Bokuto. He fumbled with the lantern before gripping it by the handle.

“You’re… You’re really beautiful,” Bokuto replies, looking down at the lantern. He thanked Akaashi, apparently not noticing his wide eyes and straightened spine. His cheeks burned as Bokuto located the stairs, walking down them slowly. His shoes squished when he put weight on them, the rainwater sloshing in his socks.

Akaashi heard the door of his lighthouse open moments later before it closed again and Michelangelo reappeared at the top of the stairs again, looking up at Akaashi.

The artist looked down at his cat, shaking his head. What a stupid man, honestly. Alone in the middle of the night, hair and clothes basically holding an entire ocean and howling laughter at the rain and waves. Akaashi stares at the puddle Bokuto had left, along with a wet dove feather.

Michelangelo pawed it cautiously. Akaashi picked it up, rolling it around between his fingers. He frowns, crossing over to his phone and picking it up, dialling Kuroo’s number.

The street artist answers groggily. _“What’s up, ‘Kaashi?”_

“I believe I specifically asked you to stop telling people of my balcony,” he answers, his eyes on the feather. He heard Kuroo shift.

 _“Who came by? Surely not Nishinoya again?”_ was Kuroo’s reply.

“Bokuto Koutarou.”

Kuroo went silent. Akaashi’s frown deepened.

“Who is he, Tetsurou?”

Kuroo sighs. _“He’s… He’s weird. I didn’t think he’d actually believe me. About your balcony thing, you know?”_

“No, I don’t know,” Akaashi snaps. “It’s in the dead of night, Tetsurou, and this man shows up, laughing hysterically at the waves during the storm.” Akaashi glances over his shoulder to the storm that was calming down. “He was drenched to the bone before I gave him a lantern and he called me beautiful.”

 _“Like I said,”_ Kuroo sighed again. _“He’s weird. But he’s not a bad guy. I’m guessing you’re mad ‘cause this is the first time a street rat’s flirted with you?”_

Akaashi recoils, his eyes dark. “Street rat? Is that what you think I call you? Just because I make a living off my paintings?”

 _“No.”_ Kuroo doesn’t say anything else. _“I’ve stopped telling people, by the way. After you said that Terushima stopped by, I stopped. I thought he’d be the last. Ring me again if Bo comes back. I’ll sort him out.”_

Akaashi sighs quietly. “Okay. Goodnight, Tetsurou.”

_“Night.”_

 

Bokuto really needed to paint something.

It was like a drug. He needed his spray cans and he needed them now.

He felt filthy. The tuxedo was suffocating and his saxophone was heavy in his hands. Oikawa watched him with concern furrowing his brows.

“You alright, Kou?” he asks, shifting closer to him. His long eyelashes fanned against his cheek. “You look angry.”

“I am,” Bokuto growls. His hands shifted on his saxophone and he blew out a long flat note. “I wanna paint,” he whines.

Oikawa pouted. “Aw, sweetie. How ‘bout I come out with you after the show? Iwa-chan might be on the streets as well! And you like him!”

Bokuto grinned. That actually sounded really nice. Of course, Oikawa would have to hid his face and take off his make up if he didn’t want to be seen (as would Bokuto). 

Oikawa buried his hand in Bokuto’s hair, ruffling it. “Sounds like a plan, huh, darling?” He patted his back, standing up. He cracked his back, the feathers of his mask swaying in the air conditioning. “Come on, let’s get ready for the show.”

 

As soon as he got off stage with Oikawa, he pulled off his bowtie and packed up his saxophone. Oikawa pulled off his heels, slipping into his ankle boots. In a few minutes flat, the two of them were out of the club, Oikawa smiling brightly when he saw Iwaizumi.

“Hajime!” he calls, jumping down the stairs two at a time with Bokuto behind him.

“Hey, Tooru,” the street performer greets, kissing him a short kiss before pulling Bokuto in for a quick hug. “We hitting the bricks?”

Bokuto grins, holding up his bag full of paint. “I got a big one for tonight. You up for it?”

“‘Course I am,” Iwaizumi replies smugly, taking his bag. “If my girl’s watching, how can I refuse?”

Oikawa smiled, kissing him on the cheek. “Come on, tough guy. Kou’s been ansty all show.”

“That bad?” Iwaizumi frowns. “When was the last time you painted?”

Bokuto scratched his cheek, his thick eyebrows furrowing. “Uh… Last Thursday?”

Iwaizumi’s eyes widened as he turned on his heel. “You don’t usually take that big of breaks. I’d be concerned if you took two nights between a tag. Why so long?”

“Night terrors,” Bokuto laughs, slipping into an alleyway. “I met someone. And I wanna paint him. I needed prints.”

Iwaizumi groans, shaking the bag. “Fuckin’ last time you met someone, you almost got arrested.”

“And Tetsu apologised for that!” Bokuto exclaims in return, walking backwards. “Dude, they’ll never know it’s me. I’ve never been caught! I’m not starting now!”

“Give him a chance, Hajime,” Oikawa says in his defence, rubbing his shoulder. “He’s got a crush.”

Bokuto felt his cheeks flush along with Iwaizumi’s scowl. “Is that so? You got puppy love for a waitress?”

“He’s another artist, thanks,” Bokuto hisses over his shoulder. “But not street art. I doubt he’ll see it, but I have to paint him. He’s… He’s one of a kind!”

Iwaizumi rolls his eyes, throwing the bag at Bokuto when he turned around with his arms out wide. “Yeah, yeah. Just tell me where to paint and I’ll do it. He better be good looking.” He pulled out some of Bokuto’s brushes and a can of while paint, shaking it before spraying it onto the wall. Oikawa sat down on the ground, crossing his legs as he pulled out his phone.

“No selfies,” Iwaizumi warns, pointing a brush at him. Oikawa smiled. 

“You know me,” he grins.

“I mean it, ‘Kawa.”

“You know me,” he drawls. He switched off his phone and watched Iwaizumi and Bokuto as they glued, sprayed, chalked, taped and brushed the wall with different colours.

 

A bobtail cat on a man’s shoulder while he held up a lantern that illuminated his dark skin was painted on the wall of a small alleyway for all to see. 

Kuroo stopped short, staring at the print. He pushed himself up against the wall, feeling the old paint on the bricks catch in his hair. There was Michelangelo, a cat he knew all too well and a landscape artist who would want nothing to do with him after he saw this, sitting on the back brick wall of a bar. 

Kuroo smacked his head against the brick wall, groaning loudly. He reluctantly pulled out his phone, snapping a photo before making his way to find Bokuto.

 

“The fuck was that on the wall?!”

Bokuto coughed when Kuroo’s arm collided with his throat, shoving him up against the wall. Oikawa gasped, covering his mouth as several girls watched with wide eyes and wig cap covered hair.

“You thought this was a good idea?!” Kuroo yells, loud enough to break glass. He showed Bokuto the photo of his most recent artwork.  
Bokuto squints before swallowing. Kuroo rolls his eyes and released his arm.

“Listen dude, Akaashi’s not…” Kuroo sighs. “Akaashi doesn’t like this kind of stuff. He’s another artist, just like us. If… If someone recognises him in your art, he’ll be ruined. You gotta think before you do this.”

“You paint Kozume. How’s it different?” Bokuto retorts, straightening out his suit. Kuroo rubbed his eyes.

“Kozume’s a writer,” he urges. “He has a lot of fans. Akaashi’s not like that. The people who buy his paintings and sketches… they just see a pretty piece of art for their wall.” Kuroo looks at him, his yellow eyes desperate. “Akaashi’s… He’s not like us. He’s… He’s high class. He belongs on mansion walls with a pretty chandelier. We belong on brick walls in the back alley of bars.”

Oikawa stepped forward, smacking Kuroo’s chest. “Are you serious? You’re just gonna demote street rats?” He threw his hands up in anger. “Street performers and artists do anything they can to make a living! Street artists have just as much potential as “real” artists. They want their art on walls, so they put it on walls! Maybe not gallery frames, but they do what they can to be recognised. Kou wanted to paint something, so he did. You wanted to paint something when you were nineteen, so you painted Kozume.” He stared at Kuroo angrily. “You’re now known for your art on Kozume in the community. Maybe the same will happen to Kou.”

Kuroo huffed out a breath. He shrugs simply, making his way out of the club. He glances over his shoulder once at the door. “All I’m saying is be careful. You don’t know Akaashi like I do.”

Oikawa huffs, picking up Bokuto’s saxophone. “Come on,” he growls, flicking his hair out of his face. “We’ve got a show to do.”


	2. Freckles and flowers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> heres chapter two ha

Akaashi sighed as his hat fell into his eyes. He pushed it up, old glasses sitting on his nose. He made his way to the markets, his portfolio inside his push cart. Michelangelo was inside the push cart as well as Akaashi pushed it into the markets.

“Good morning, Yamaguchi-kun,” he greets to the freckle faced florist.

“Morning, Akaashi-san!” he replies, smiling widely. “How are you?”

“I’ve been better,” Akaashi grumbled. Yamaguchi picked out a rose while Akaashi set up. “I think I ran myself dry… My artwork isn’t moving forward too much.”

Yamaguchi handed him a white rose and smiled. “Hopefully this makes you feel better,” he said softly. “I’m sorry to hear about your paintings.”

Akaashi smiled softly at the rose. “Thank you, Yamaguchi-kun.” He looked up at Yamaguchi smiling, his dark hair lightened by the early morning rays of sunlight and tilted his head slightly. “I think I found something new to paint.”

Yamaguchi’s eyebrows creased but Akaashi shook his head. ‘It’s nothing,” he says, amusement in his voice. “Thank you, again.”

Michelangelo craned his neck as Yamaguchi patted him. He returned back to his stall once Akaashi sat down, setting up his easel and readying his paints. Michelangelo settled down at his feet, planting his chin on his orange paws.

“I told you I’d buy you salmon today,” Akaashi mutters as he laid down a wash of lime green. Michelangelo’s ear twitched as Akaashi huffed a laugh.

 

It was slow.

Akaashi was able to sell two of his paintings along with a small watercolour of Michelangelo. A blonde woman and her girlfriend had brought the painting Akaashi had done a few months before of Nishinoya and his violin, the blonde girl a big fan of his performances. They’d payed extra for the signed photo Akaashi had of Nishinoya, the blonde woman happy to have helped Akaashi “lived to fight another day” as Kageyama had described.

“You don’t have a filter, do you?” Yamaguchi mutters. Kageyama rolls his eyes. 

“We make a living out of a market stall,” Kageyama replies firmly. “If I could, I’d be out of here in seconds flat. But I have to pay my bills, and so you do.”

“But Akaashi has potential,” Yamaguchi insists. “He’s a painter. A painter who deserves to be in museums.”

“Gosh,” Akaashi breathes. “I hope I don’t become famous after I’m dead.” He fought a smile when Yamaguchi’s brain back pedalled. 

“No! That’s not what I meant!” he corrects quickly, shaking his hands. “I mean, you should live on even after you’re gone, but you shouldn’t be here with us!” His cheeks flushed. “I mean, I love having you here, of course! I wouldn’t have it any other way, obviously, but you… You should be in galleries…” He looked helplessly at Kageyama but he didn’t offer anything to make it better.

“I understand what you’re saying, Yamaguchi-kun,” Akaashi offers, giving him a small smile. “I appreciate the compliment, but I don’t think it will happen anytime soon.”

“Yeah…” Yamaguchi shifted his feet. “I do mean it, though.”

“We can’t all be like Tsukishima,” Akaashi replies, folding up his easel. “I hear he’s playing piano in Germany?”

Yamaguchi gave a little smile. “Yeah, he’s really made it. He send me things. Postcards and stuff.”

Kageyama scoffs while Akaashi smiles. “That’s good to hear,” the artist says. “I’m happy for both of you.”

He pushed his cart off, waving to both of them before Michelangelo jumped up. Akaashi was itching to get back to his lighthouse to work on Yamaguchi’s painting. He wasn’t sure who would actually buy it if he went to sell it, but he had started the painting and was excited to work on it.

Akaashi nodded to Tanaka in the tattoo shop as the grey haired man smiled at him. Terushima was in there two, waving to Akaashi.

Several stores and other market stalls began to pack up as Akaashi walked by, some of them greeting and waving to Akaashi as he passed. He smiled at Hinata, the tea shop owner and the ginger came out and hugged him.

“Hi, Akaashi-san!” he smiles, patting Michelangelo. “Ooohh, new paintings?”

“Some of them are, yes,” Akaashi replies as Hinata opened his portfolio. “Your walls didn’t suddenly get new space?”

Hinata chuckles. “I wish. Your paintings are beautiful!” He tapped one Akaashi had painted a while ago of Kuroo under an umbrella. Neon signs and lights flickered down to light up his features, turning his black hair slightly brown while his yellow eyes reflected the orange and yellow of car lights.

“But, what I can do is commission you,” Hinata says suddenly, snapping his portfolio shut. “I need really beautiful flowers. And I need this girl and me.” Hinata pulled out three photos of the same blonde woman who had bought the painting of Nishinoya.

“I just need her with flowers,” the ginger says, giving him a smile. “It’s not creepy, I promise! She’s my best friend and her birthday is coming up soon. I want to give her something really special.”

“By ‘soon’, you mean…?”

“Two and a half months,” Hinata replies easily. “I know you don’t like to be rushed.”

Akaashi’s shoulders relaxed. “Thank you very much, Shoyo.”

Hinata smiled and gave him the photos of him, the woman and the one of them together. “I trust you’ll do great! Thank you so much, Akaashi-san!”

Akaashi waved to him while he danced back to his tea shop. He pushed his cart off again, making his way home. 

It wasn’t a long walk home. Maybe around twenty five minutes? Akaashi liked it because it was quiet. He could just walk, the light salty breeze from the sea flowing past him. He sighed, dropping his shoulders.

Akaashi opened his eyes once he got to the main square, pushing his cart through the narrow alleyways. He frowned when he heard soft music along with a buzz of a spray can. 

The can dropped, startling Akaashi. He pulled his small cart back, redirecting it to another alleyway. It was the long route back to his lighthouse, one he never took very often. Michelangelo’s fur was raising and Akaashi decided not to risk it. He turned himself around, pushing his cart into a small street lined with restaurants. He turned down another street, heading towards a bridge before he stopped, looking up at the wall.

There he was, in real life staring at a mirrored version of himself. Michelangelo laid on his shoulder while he held up a lantern, the yellow light illuminating his dark cheeks. His dark curls were highlighted with purple and grey chalk, his grey eyes holding green in them. Michelangelo’s fur was bright, his dark orange paws dripping onto Akaashi’s striped sweater, the same one he was wearing before the storm of Bokuto Koutarou hit him.

Akaashi turned on his heel, beelining his way back to his lighthouse. He wheeled his cart into his flat, taking the stairs two at a time. He grabbed his phone, dialling in Kuroo’s number and waited until he picked up.

 

Kuroo laughs as the smoke from Terushima’s cigarette filled the air. He coughed, waving it away. Terushima stuck out his tongue, the new bar in the centre catching the light.

“I love it!” he smiles. Terushima nods, raking his hands through his hair.

“Yeah, but the clamps fuckin’ killed,” Terushima groans. “You should have seen-“

Kuroo’s phone vibrated and he eyed it. “I’ll be back,” he told Terushima, answering his phone and standing up. “Hey, Akaashi. What’s going on?”

_“Did you paint me?”_

Kuroo looked over his shoulder for any strangers before frowning. “No? Why? Did something happen?”

_“Are you sure?”_

“I keep track of all my graff,” Kuroo replies slowly. “And I would have told you if I had painted you.” He frowns. “What happened, Keiji?”

_“…I saw- It was me. I had my lantern and Michelangelo was on my shoulder. He painted it, didn’t he? Bokuto Koutarou?”_

Kuroo sighs. “Yeah… He painted it. With Iwaizumi and Oikawa.”

_“Who the fuck are-“_

“I told him to take it down,” Kuroo interrupts. “I told him you wouldn’t like it.”

 _“No, I’m… It was- It was really good… I- He was… I don’t know.”_ Akaashi sighed while Kuroo shifted. He had never heard Akaashi stutter this much. _“I’ll call you later. I don’t know what I feel. Goodnight.”_

“Yeah… Night.” Kuroo hung up, frowning at his phone. Akaashi’s contact lit up and he sighed. Terushima frowned at him, confusion lacing his feature. Kuroo shrugged, pocketing his phone.

Terushima shrugged too, picking up his beer. “You get called out?”

“Nah,” Kuroo scoffs. “I’m free.” Terushima grinned, patting his back.


	3. Silvia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Photographed was Bokuto with his hair gelled up white a black mask over his eyes. He wore a tuxedo and white gloves that held a silver saxophone. A woman with short brown hair stood next to him, her long arms draped over Bokuto’s shoulders. The brunette had a black mask on as well, but the eyes were slanted and particularly feminine. She wore a long dress that flowed to her ankles and strappy open toed heels.

Akaashi pulled his knees into his chest. Sand seeped into his toes while he watched children play in the water. He sighed, running his fingers through his hair.

He’d been sitting on the beach for almost two hours thinking. Was this how Kozume felt when he saw Kuroo’s art? Flattered, but slightly confused? Amazed, but scared? Grateful, but shocked? He wondered if this is how models felt when they saw their photos on the streets and on the side of bus stops. He groaned loudly. The sand next to him shifted and he looked up.

“Hey!” Bokuto smiles. He looked the waves crash before sitting down next to Akaashi. He grinned at Akaashi, who only looked at him.

“Hi,” Akaashi answers, turning back to the ocean. Bokuto looked at him before frowning.

“Are you okay?” he asks, shifting closer to him. “Did something happen?”

“I saw your painting,” Akaashi says bluntly. His eyes never left the sea as the waves crashed onto the shore. “With the lantern.”

“Oh…”

They sat in silence for a few more minutes before Akaashi spoke again.

“I liked it.”

Bokuto looked at him, his eyes wide. He looks like someone who just won the lottery. “You-You did?!” he whispers. Akaashi couldn’t help his smile. Bokuto laughed loudly, falling back into the sand and sketch out.

“I’m so glad!” Bokuto breathes. “Tetsu got angry at me for doing it. Because you’re, like, a big painter. And I’m a street artist and it’s graffiti and stuff and it’s illegal or whatever.”

“A big painter?” Akaashi echoes. “I’m hardly big. I sell my paintings in a market, not a gallery.” He sighed and closed his eyes. How he wished a gallery would support him.

“You belong in galleries,” Bokuto says and Akaashi smiles, feeling his skin flush. “I’m serious!”

Akaashi chuckled, rubbing his nose. He laid back with Bokuto and stared up at the sky. Clouds passed slowly as they watched him. Akaashi could feel the heat radiating off Bokuto as their hands laid centimetres away from each other.

“Tetsu said… He said that you wouldn’t like it,” Bokuto says quietly. “That you’re too high class for street art.”

“I was shocked,” Akaashi answers truthfully, eyes never leaving the sky. “I didn’t know what to feel. I was flattered, but I felt… different. I wasn’t angry. I think I was confused as to why you painted me.” He turned his head to face bokuto.

“I painted you because I wanted to,” Bokuto muses. His gold eyes watched the passing clouds. “I told you when you gave me the lantern. And Michelangelo is fun to paint as well.”

Akaashi rolled his eyes and faced the sky again. “He’s stubborn.” He paused. “But Tetsurou told me you painted with others.”

Bokuto hums. “Iwaizumi Hajime and Oikawa Tooru.”

Akaashi slowly sat up. “Oikawa Tooru?” He frowned and glances back at Bokuto. “Why is that name familiar?” Bokuto pulled out his wallet and gave him a photo. Akaashi stared at it before his eyes widened.

Photographed was Bokuto with his hair gelled up with a black mask over his eyes. He wore a tuxedo and white gloves that held a silver saxophone. A woman with short brown hair stood next to him, her long arms draped over Bokuto’s shoulders. The brunette had a black mask on as well, but the eyes were slanted and particularly feminine. She wore a long dress that flowed to her ankles and strappy open toed heels. 

“Oikawa is a woman?” Akaashi had asked. Bokuto shook his head.

“It’s the power of theatre,” Bokuto laughs. “Has a boyfriend, who is actually Iwaizumi.” He seemed to amuse himself and covered his mouth to hold back a laugh. “He’s real girly though. But he doesn’t mind.”

Akaashi looked at Oikawa’s photo. His face was smooth and perfect. His jawline was sharp, as were his brown eyes even behind the mask. Akaashi couldn’t even begin to imagine what he was like on stage if just this photo was making Akaashi stunned.

“He’s beautiful,” Akaashi simply says. Bokuto snorted.

“Yeah, he’s gorgeous,” he replied. “But Iwaizumi would kick your ass for saying that.”

Akaashi nods. “But that isn’t what surprises me.” He gave Bokuto’s wallet back to him and looked at him. “You play the saxophone.”

Bokuto laughed as he sat up. He shook out his hair, letting the sand fall into his lap. “Yeah. Tooru named it Silvia. He gave me her when I was nineteen.”

“How long have you played?”

“I would have been… about seven?” Bokuto scratched behind his ear. “Me n’ Tooru have been friends since we were kids, so he was my first audience.” He pulled himself up, offering a hand to Akaashi. “You should come to a show!”

“To your show?” Akaashi asks dumbly. “A performance?”

Bokuto nods, jumping up slightly. “It’ll be fun! Maybe you could draw or something! While I play and Oikawa acts!” Akaashi looked down at Bokuto still holding his hand. Bokuto let go and grinned at him. 

“It will be good,” Bokuto smiled. “I’d love for you to come. I love playing when there’s someone I know in the crowd.”

 

Real talk.

What the fuck are you supposed to wear to a show?

Was it an opera? Was it musical? Well, it had to musical if Bokuto was playing the goddamn saxophone but was it classic jazz? Or fast jazz?

Bokuto wore a tuxedo in the photo but there was no way Akaashi could just pull on a tuxedo and waltz into the place.

Akaashi settled for a white collared blue dress shirt with a black tie and dress pants. He wore no blazer, as it was slightly warm, along with pointed toed shoes and his sketchbook under his arm.

Michelangelo meowed at him as he passed him. “I’ll be home soon,” he says, shutting the door while Michelangelo is mid-meow.

 

The opera (?? Akaashi just went with it) was beautiful. Brightly lit with waiters and waitresses milling around. He spotted what looked like Oikawa speaking with the pianist, none other than Yaku Morisuke, the infamous pianist with a taste for Nishinoya Yuu. He was smiling, taking Oikawa’s gloved hand and shaking it, kissing him on both cheeks.

Akaashi quickly sat down, a man with short brown hair offering him a drink and telling him the piece. Akaashi took it, giving him his money. His name tag read “Ennoshita”.

Akaashi settled down, Ennoshita’s light beer in front of him. The lights dimmed and the curtains opened, revealing Bokuto on the stairs with Oikawa by his side.

Bokuto’s eyes were closed, his saxophone in his lap. Oikawa nudged him, making him open his eyes. It was a quiet start while Oikawa and Bokuto mimed. Oikawa looked scared as he looked out into the crowd, gesturing to it frantically.

“Maybe we have to sing?” came Bokuto unexpected voice. Akaashi was surprised to see the people around him mouthing the words from Bokuto’s mouth. Oikawa stood up straight, his heels clicking. Bokuto’s own voice seemed to ignite his.

“Sing? You know I can’t sing,” he snaps, crossing his arms. The crowd copied his words too. Akaashi felt slightly out of place. “All you’ve got is that damn horn to blow.”

“And I’ll play it if you sing your little heart out!” Bokuto replies, inching closer to him. “You think I wanna be stared at? You gotta put on a show to get paid.”

Akaashi watches them, seeing Oikawa look out into the crowd. “I’ll sing,” he says angrily. “I’ll sing once and make this place remember who I am.”

“And who are you?” Bokuto laughs, sitting down on the steps as he readying his saxophone.

Oikawa huffed, flicking his dress. “I’m the one and only Midnight, _obviously_!”

“Tell me again!” Bokuto howls, leaning back.

“I’m Midnight!”

“Who are you?! Tell me, darling!”

“I’m Midnight!” Oikawa says triumphantly, along with the crowd. Bokuto whistles, taking a deep breath and beginning to play. The rest of the band started up while dancers surrounded Oikawa. Akaashi leaned forward in his seat, almost knocking over his drink.

Yaku’s piano ringed out with Bokuto’s saxophone as he leaned back, a long note echoing through the show house. Yaku laughed as Oikawa pulled an audience member, dancing with him easily as the man smiled. 

Akaashi’s eyes widened when Oikawa reached into the crowd again, pulling Ennoshita up. He shyly shook his head, his wrist in Oikawa’s grasp. Oikawa pouted as the song came to a close.

“You remember Chikara, right?” he asks the crowd. Whistles and woops followed. “He doesn’t wanna dance tonight!”

“I can’t dance!” Ennoshita says, shrugging his shoulders. “I’ve told you guys before!” He looks bashful, rubbing his neck nervously as the crowd cheers him on.

“Bullshit!” comes Bokuto’s reply. He stands up, beginning to play Silvia again while Yaku smiles. The drums start up and Ennoshita sighs but a smile is on his lips, taking Oikawa’s hand and spinning him into his chest, quickly dipping him.

Laughter and cheers rang out as Oikawa and Ennoshita danced. Bokuto was replaced on the saxophone in favour of dancing with Oikawa when Ennoshita returned back to the bar. Bokuto’s smile never left his face as Oikawa sang, the dancers milling around him.

The song ended with Oikawa collapsing onto the steps, sighing loudly. He looked up into the crowd, shaking his head with a smile.

“It’s my last song,” he announces, boos coming from the crowd. He tosses his head back and laughs. “I’ll miss you too! But, this one’s a special song. A new song! Better than all our other ones, if you ask me,” he adds in a low voice, smiling.

No one else is on stage as three girls come out onto the stage behind Oikawa. He pretends not to notice them. “This one’s a good one,” he says. “But tell me. That saxophone player? Koutarou? What a joke, huh?”

Akaashi feels himself tense up. He watches Oikawa, but Akaashi doesn’t know if he’s joking or not. The brunette smiles darkly.

“I mean, just look at him!” He points off stage, and Bokuto appears. He looks hurt and Akaashi feels his stomach drop.

“Your hair,” Oikawa sneers. “Your eyes, your clothes, the way you talk, walk and act.” With each word, Bokuto stumbles back, clutching his chest. “Even your saxophone!”

Bokuto collapses dramatically, falling forward from the final blow. Oikawa rests his heel on his back before lodging his foot under Bokuto and rolling him down the stairs.

“Maybe I can’t do much,” Bokuto growls from the floor. He stands up slowly, facing Oikawa. His hair is down and matted, falling into his eyes. “But I can put on a show!”

Yaku’s fingers pressed down harshly on the keys as Bokuto straightens. He climbs up the stairs, staring Oikawa down. “My hair? My eyes? My clothes? Take a look at you!”

Oikawa gasps and steps back. Bokuto crosses the distance in one step. “Midnight? What a joke! You’re only in this dump ‘cause you can’t catch a break!”

Yaku slams the keys again as Oikawa falls, a few dancers pushing him back up. Akaashi leans forward, his eyes wide. Bokuto grins, walking down the stairs with his hands in his pockets. Akaashi hadn’t noticed, but his bowtie was undone and hanging loosely. He looks smug and calm, hair falling into his eyes.

“Better than all the other ones, you say?” Bokuto laughs loudly. “Better than all the ones _I_ wrote?” He lowers his gaze, staring right at Akaashi. “But how can it be better, when I’m the one who wrote it?”

Yaku slams the keys again as the stage lights up. Bokuto grins and Oikawa stomps off stage, replaced with beautiful black haired girl. Bokuto takes her hands and dances for what seems like hours, before he dips her, looking up into the crowd as the curtain closes.

Akaashi sat back in his seat, letting out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. He didn’t know Bokuto could play that well, act that well, sing that well _or_ dance that well. He couldn’t get the image of Bokuto’s dishevelled appearance as he walked down the stage, hands in his pockets and hair completely wild. He itched for his sketchbook that sat in front of him but he couldn’t bring himself to touch it.

A hand was placed on his shoulder and he turned to see Bokuto looking the same way he did on stage. He grins down at Akaashi, slipping into the seat next to him.

“I didn’t see you touch your sketchbook once,” he says, leaning on his hand. “What did ya think? Did you like it?”

What did he _think_? Akaashi resisted the urge to roll his eyes. “You were…” He shakes his head, lost for words. “And Oikawa-san at the end! With the insults and the dances and the… the…” He shook his hands in front of him like it would make more sense with gestures but Bokuto only smiled. 

“You liked it?”

“I loved it,” Akaashi breathes, his eyes wide. “You were fantastic with Silvia. And when Oikawa-san kicked you and you-“

“Fell down the stairs? Bokuto grimaces. “Yeah, he actually kicked me. Sometimes improv isn’t just pretend.”

Akaashi stares at him. “That… That whole scene was improv?!” he hisses, leaning forward. Bokuto tosses his head back and laughs.

“We needed a segway,” he says. “We just hadn’t thought of it yet. Director told us to ‘let it all out’ at each other so we did.” Bokuto smiles. “Tooru probably meant some of that. He hates the way I talk sometimes.”

“You speak fine,” Akaashi says a little too firmly. “I don’t know what he’s talking about.”

Akaashi smiled when Bokuto gave him a blinding grin and pulled him up by his hand. “Let’s go somewhere,” Bokuto says in his ear. “Anywhere. I’ll take you anywhere.”

Akaashi can feel Oikawa’s eyes from the curtain where he’s speaking with Yaku. He ignores him, nodding to Bokuto. “Then take me anywhere,” he says, like it’s the easiest decision in the world.

 

Bokuto lays in the water with Akaashi beside him. Akaashi can see his lighthouse from here, knowing it won’t be a long walk once they get out and begin to freeze. 

Bokuto is laying on his back, chessboard coloured hair flowing out while Akaashi treads water to keep himself afloat. 

“Tetsu’s gonna be _so_ pissed,” Bokuto drags out. 

“Tetsurou can shove it,” Akaashi replies sternly. “Just because you are his friend doesn’t mean you can’t be mine.”

“Are we friends, Akaashi-san?” Bokuto laughs, rolling over in the water to look at him. His hair is all pulled over to one side from the water but he doesn’t move to change it.

“I think we are,” Akaashi answers, pushing his legs out to distance himself from Bokuto. The musician only follows. “Do you think we are?”

“I’d like to be,” Bokuto says seriously. His gold eyes are filled with moonlight as he stares at Akaashi and the artist feels like he’ll drown in that moment. Maybe he should have listened to Kuroo. _Ring me again if Bo comes back._

But he doesn’t want to listen to Kuroo. Because this moment here is nice, whether or not Akaashi feels strange. He likes Bokuto-san. He is nice, funny, kind and happy. Akaashi likes to spend time with him, even though it has been limited. He wants to spend more time with him.  
Bokuto leaned back into the water, his hair spreading out again. He closes his eyes once Akaashi does the same. He sighs, lifting his pale hand and reaching out to the starlight sky.

“I don’t understand why you and I are so different,” Bokuto says. Akaashi opens his eyes but doesn’t turn his head.

“What do you mean?” Akaashi asks. “We’re not that different.”

“In class, yes we are.”

“Not really.” Akaashi scoffs. “We’re both artists but we paint different things. That doesn’t make me better than you. I choose to make money off my paintings because I want to. You paint for everyone to see because you want to.”

Bokuto smiles. “I like you a lot, Akaashi Keiji. I respect you.”

Akaashi swallows down whatever’s lodged in his throat. “Thank you,” he says, even though he wishes to say more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i couldn't wait till tuesday lol  
> feedback!! i crave it! (i've been to theatre plays and stuff before but i have no idea if anything i wrote was accurate nor if it made sense lol. i tried my best. i always wrote this in an airport while i had to wait for 8 hours to catch a plane back home)  
> also if the opera thing is hard to imagine, watch a few scenes from the movie burlesque on youtube bc i love that movie and that's kinda why i did this scene lol


	4. Do you want to go to the seaside?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> getting the ball rolling! this is kinda fast and im sorry :c but it should be good!  
> also my apologies but after next chapter kuroo will be disappearing for a while!! he'll come back and he'll be as cute as ever. hopefully i'll get him and kenma going ;)

Akaashi scowls, pulling his watercolour paper out from underneath his coffee mug. He accidentally spilt yellow over a seaside blue. He opened his window, tossing his dirty paint water into the cliff rocks.

His paper was ruined. He had already spilt coffee on it before but somehow saved it. Then Michelangelo had stepped in green before freaking out and dragging it into his blue. He mixed it together, making the water a sort of swampy green, but it didn’t match up.

Akaashi sighs, screwing up the paper into a ball. He leaned on the balcony railing, throwing the paper into an existing pile on the floor. He tosses his head back, closing his eyes.

He decided to do something very-not-Akaashi-like and turned around. He opened his mouth, took a deep breath, and let out a long scream.

He opened his eyes, taking another deep breath as the waved crashed softly into the rocks below. He went to scream again, stopping short when he saw a wisp of grey and black hair.

“What are you doing here?” Akaashi asks like he hadn’t just been screaming his lungs out.

Gold eyes meet grey and Bokuto lifts his head, pulling himself up onto the balcony. He dusts off his hands, smiling sheepishly.

“I was walking up on the beach before I heard you scream!” he says, waving his hands for emphasis. “So I climbed up but you saw me…” He shifted the bag on his back with the strap across his chest.

Akaashi watched him. The way his fluffy grey and black hair fell loosely across his forehead, the way his golden eyes caught the sunlight. His dark clothes which completely crashed with his bright red shoes, but it seemed so Bokuto. He was strange, but he was a good strange. If anything, Akaashi wanted to paint him. He closely resembled an owl but Akaashi was quite sure that was on purpose.

“What are you doing here?” Akaashi asks again, blinking.

Bokuto stared at him. “I just- uh… I just said, didn’t I?” he stuttered, laughing nervously. “What was the answer you were expecting?”

Akaashi sighs again. He seemed to be doing that a lot. Michelangelo hissed from his bed and the painter glared at him, his mouth a tight line. Bokuto raised his eyebrows before swallowing.

“Your cat really doesn’t like me… does he?” he laughs, slumping his shoulders.

“Michelangelo doesn’t like a lot of people,” Akaashi replies calmly. 

“Your cat’s name is Michelangelo?” Bokuto asks, his eyes wide. He smiled. “That’s amazing! Like the sculptor!”

“Yes, like the sculptor,” Akaashi echoed, trying to fight his own smile. Bokuto laughed, looking at Michelangelo. He waved at him, careful not to get too close. The cat growled deep in his throat but he didn’t hiss. Bokuto looked back at Akaashi, cracking his knuckles.

“Did you know that Michelangelo wasn’t originally a painter?”

Akaashi stared blankly at him. “Yes… He was also a sculptor. You just said.”

“I know, I know! But he painted the Sistine Chapel, right?”

Akaashi resisted the urge to roll his eyes. “Of course.”

“He couldn’t paint!” Bokuto exclaims. “But the Pope asked him countless times and he kept saying no because he couldn’t paint, but the Pope kept asking! Finally he gave in and started from the ground up, teaching himself to paint through the Sistine Chapel.”

“That’s right,” Akaashi nods. “Did you know he also painted God mooning the floor so that it would be the first thing the Pope saw?”

Bokuto gasps, laughing breathlessly. “You’re serious?!” he yelled before Akaashi nodded. Michelangelo’s fur rose on his neck before Akaashi glared at him.

“We’re talking about you,” Akaashi hisses. “Feel blessed.” 

Bokuto snorted while Michelangelo stood up and stalked past Akaashi, heading downstairs. Bokuto shakes his head before straightening, pulling off his bag. He unzips it and pulls out Akaashi’s lantern. 

Yellow and white paint was dotted on the lantern, some of the paint staining the glass. Bokuto sheepishly smiled and handed it to Akaashi, quickly retracting his hands to scratch his neck.

“I, uh… My paints accidentally got on it,” he says, picking his fingernails. “I was using it for reference so it dripped.”

Akaashi glanced from the lantern up at Bokuto. He blinks down at the lantern before nodding slowly. Bokuto waves his hand around to the canvases and papers that covered Akaashi’s walls. He spots the pieces of paper that were screwed up and frowns. “You messed up?”

Akaashi follows his eyes and scoffs. “Oh, yes. Michelangelo messed it up and I spilt coffee on it… Everything looked wrong.”

Bokuto shakes his head, opening up one of the papers. His eyes widen and he looks up at Akaashi. “This is beautiful!”

“Are you blind?” Akaashi deadpans, snatching it from him. His inner Tsukishima is coming out. “It’s garbage. There’s no way I’d be able to sell that. It’s disgusting.” He screws up the painting again, tossing it over to Bokuto’s bag. Something silver caught the light in his bag and Akaashi squinted, inching closer to it. “Oh,” he says bluntly. “It’s Silvia.”

Bokuto laughed, reaching over and pulling out his saxophone. He pieced it together quickly, heaving it up onto his knee. “Street art… It’s a nightlife,” he says slowly. “During the day, this girl’s all mine, as you know.”

The way Bokuto’s pale fingers rolled over the keys made Akaashi itch for his paint brush but he resisted in favour of watching Bokuto. He disassembled it again and placed it back into his case. 

“I wouldn’t have picked you for a street artist,” Akaashi says. Bokuto licked his lips.

“Yeah… It’s just a hobby, though,” he replies. “I’ve played saxophone since I was a kid, and it’s always stuck with me. Is it the same with painting for you?”

Akaashi nods. “I painted with my mother when I was younger while my twin brother went fishing with my father. I loved it more than anything.” Michelangelo reappeared and brushed against his leg.

“Well, I think that you’re a great painter,” Bokuto smiled. He looked over at the big easel in the corner and his eyes widened. “Who’s that?”

Akaashi followed his eyes, finding the beginning of Hinata’s ginger hair and Yachi’s blonde. He had painted her eyes and fringe, along with Hinata’s entire face.

“Hitoka-chan and Shoyo-kun,” he answers, pointing to each other them. “It’s for Hitoka-chan’s birthday coming up.”

Bokuto blew out a breath. “Wow,” he said breathlessly. “Hitoka’s beautiful.”

“It’s only her eyes,” Akaashi muttered.

“Still gorgeous,” Bokuto replies. “Anything by you is.”

Akaashi felt his cheeks grow hot. Bokuto somehow always made him flustered. Bokuto smiled at him, making his heart beat faster. He swallowed, and despite his brain telling him not to, smiled back. 

 

 

Akaashi spends too much time on Hitoka.

He had Hinata take more photos of her. Hitoka didn’t ask why, only telling Hinata not to sell them for some reason. Akaashi hadn’t left his lighthouse in almost weeks. He painted until he fell asleep on his easel, and then woke up and began painting again.

He painted the last flower on Hinata’s head with Kuroo and Bokuto by his side. The tall cat had gotten over himself after seeing Bokuto and Akaashi walking through the markets together. 

Kuroo leaned over Akaashi’s shoulder, the painter beginning to feel sleep take him. “Come on, Keiji,” Kuroo urges. “It’s the last aster. Come on, or Michelangelo will scratch you again.” He placed his hands on Akaashi’s ears, his large hands making Akaashi’s view the canvas only. He focused and dipped his skinny paint brush into the purple paint and colouring the petal. He put his brush down after five minutes, Kuroo’s hands releasing his face.

“Is it-“ Bokuto began before Kuroo glared at him. “Are we done?” he whispered. Akaashi slowly rose and picked up the canvas studying it with Bokuto and Kuroo’s eyes over his shoulders.

“We’re done,” Akaashi announces. Bokuto woops, fist pumping the air while Kuroo smiles. Akaashi smiles too, placing the canvas down and collapses into Kuroo when he offers a hug.

“We’ll go out for drinks after you sleep,” Kuroo decides, leading Akaashi to his bed. The painter almost instantly falls asleep as Kuroo tucks him in, his hand running through his curls. Akaashi hums and Kuroo grins at him, wishing him a strange midday goodnight. Kuroo nods to Bokuto, leading him down the stairs.

“Relax,” he says when he catches Bokuto glance back to the top of the stairs. “You can come back later tonight. I won’t datecrash.”

“It’s not like that,” Bokuto defends instantly. Kuroo opened the door of the lighthouse.

“It’s not like that to Akaashi or to you?” Bokuto’s pale cheeks heat up as he looks away. Kuroo smirks, shrugging his shoulders. “Whatever tickles your peach, Bo. I’ll repeat myself again. Be careful.”

“I will be careful!” he declares. Kuroo glances over his shoulder, his feet in the sand.

“Bo,” he says, inching forward. “I love you. You know I do. And I love Keiji too. I want you two to be safe, ya feel?”

Bokuto pouts but he nods. Kuroo nudges him , a smirk on his lips. 

“You feeling sushi? I’ll pay.”

Bokuto’s eyes light up and he sprints in front of Kuroo, the sand never seeming to slow him down.

 

Akaashi opened his eyes, finding the painting again. The moonlight filled his room, reflecting off Hinata’s bright hair. Akaashi pulled himself out of bed, studying the flowers on Hitoka’s head. She was smiling, her eyes closed and her cheeks pink. Hinata was grinning too, his eyes closed as well and they were holding more flowers in their arms.

Akaashi straightened when he heard the balcony railing creak. He blinks at what appears to be Bokuto’s fingers on the railing, running out to meet him and helping him up.

“Thanks,” Bokuto gasped, hands on his knees. “This bag is really heavy.” He stood up straight, his foot stepping back to steady himself when Akaashi threw his arms around his neck.

“Woah,” he breathed. “What’s wrong?” His arms wrapped around Akaashi’s waist and he settled down.

“Just happy to see you,” Akaashi replied quietly. Bokuto grins, snuggling into his shoulder.

“Glad to be here,” he answers. Akaashi pulled away, sheepishly averting his eyes and pulling his arms away. Bokuto smiles at him despite it and rubs his shoulder.

“Did you paint?” Akaashi asks him, pointing to his bag. Bokuto pulled it off and tossed it on the floor, Akaashi following him inside.

“Yeah, I helped Kuroo finish one up,” he answers. “A black cat with yellow eyes? He wanted to redo his old tag or something.”  
Akaashi nods. Michelangelo is on his bed and surprisingly stands up and stretches, meowing at Bokuto. The musician grins, scratching him behind his ears.

“I think he got used to you,” Akaashi smiles. Bokuto laughs, letting Michelangelo climb into his lap. He looks up at Akaashi and pats the side of the bed.

“Good, because I got used to him,” Bokuto replies. “It’s a fair exchange.”

Akaashi snorts, rolling his eyes. He settles next to Bokuto, watching him pat Michelangelo. Bokuto nudges him, his golden eyes bright.

“What are you thinking about?” he whispers.

Akaashi gives a one shouldered shrug. “Just things. I wanted to thank you for staying with me while I painted.”

Bokuto blinks before smiling. “It’s okay,” he breathes. “I wanted to stay with you. It was nice to watch you paint.”

“Now it’s only fair if I watch you paint?” Akaashi teases, giving him a small smile.

Bokuto’s grin grows. “It’s only fair,” he laughs quietly, leaning forward. Akaashi realises how close they are and feels his neck heat up. Bokuto must have noticed it too, because his pale cheeks are pink.

“I have to say something,” Bokuto says suddenly, not moving away.

“So do I,” Akaashi replies, keeping his position. Bokuto takes a deep breath before averting his eyes.

“They might be the same…” he whispers.

“I’m hoping they are,” is Akaashi’s reply. Michelangelo has left by now, sitting on the railing of the balcony outside. Akaashi takes a deep breath before muttering “fuck it” and leans forward, kissing Bokuto softly.

He pulls away quickly, searching Bokuto’s face. It’s blank, his golden eyes wide. Akaashi pulls back, his skin searing.

“They weren’t the same,” he mumbles before Bokuto snaps out of whatever daze he was in and shakes his head. He reaches up and cups Akaashi’s face quickly, kissing him feverishly.

“They were the same,” he breathes against his lips, kissing him again as Akaashi’s hands find his shirt and pull him closer, the two of them falling into the bed.

It’s not sexual; more pent up than anything. Akaashi lets himself go, feeling Bokuto sigh against his lips. Akaashi runs his hands through his hair, raking it back the way it was on stage, just without the sticky gel. He smiles, searching Bokuto’s face as he smiles too.

“A very long time,” Akaashi says quietly. “I’ve wanted that for a very long time.”

“You have it,” Bokuto says, trying to fight his grin enough to kiss back as Akaashi leans forward again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> feedback! feedback! feedback!
> 
> flowerboyayato.tumblr.com


	5. Kuroo: A tale of two men

Akaashi woke to his phone ringing. He doesn’t remember when he fell asleep, nor when Bokuto left. He sits up, blinking awake and sighs. He grabs it from the bedside table, skimming over Hinata’s text from Hitoka’s birthday and redialling the call he just missed.

“Hello,” Akaashi greeted. “This is Akaashi Keiji. I just missed your call?”

There was shuffling from the other end before a clearing of a throat. _“Sorry for calling so early,”_ came the voice.

“It’s ten thirty…?” Akaashi says quietly, checking his watch. “It’s fine, I don’t mind. May I ask who I’m speaking to?”

 _“Right. Sorry.”_ The voice laughs. _“This is Sugawara Koushi.”_

Akaashi sucks in a breath. Why the _hell_ was _Sugawara Koushi_ calling _him?_

Sugawara seems to read his thoughts and sighs, a chuckle following.

_“You heard me correctly. This is Sugawara Koushi. You’re Akaashi Keiji, the market painter, yes?”_

“Yes- um, yes. That’s me,” he stutters. He slapped his face, heaving a sigh. “What- uh- What can I do for you?” he asks in a polite voice.

 _“Don’t be so nervous!”_ Sugawara laughs. _“I’m just a client asking for information!”_

“R-Right.” Akaashi rolls his eyes back in annoyance at himself. “What can I do for you, Sugawara-san?

 _“There you go!”_ Sugawara’s laugh is contagious and Akaashi finds himself smiling softly. Sugawara clears his throat and Akaashi hears some papers shifting.

_“I was wondering…. if you would be able to paint something for me, of course. My friend recently achieved a personal goal, so I wanted to give him something personal in the spirit of things.”_

“What did you have in mind?” Akaashi asks, pulling out his notebook and clicking a pen.

_“Well, I can’t tell you the theme at the moment, but I hope I can give you some information in person. I’m not expecting anything immediately, of course, but I was wondering if that’d be okay. Landscapes and buildings seem to be your thing, and he lives in the city so I’m sure a background like that would make him feel at home.”_

Akaashi nodded, scrolling down a few points on his notebook. “I think I understand. I could draft up some ideas and then we’ll go from there?”

_“That would be lovely! Maybe we could meet up next week?”_

“That sounds good,” Akaashi agrees. He hung up after writing down the cafe Sugawara suggests underneath his ideas. He replied to Hinata’s text with a grateful message before pulling out his old painting books for inspiration.

 

“You’re meeting Sugawara Koushi?”

Kuroo’s question takes Akaashi a little by surprise. He stares at him before blinking. Kuroo’s yellow eyes are blank; there’s no ounce of surprise but he seems distant.

“Yes, I’m meeting him,” Akaashi replies slowly, a frown creasing his brow. “He has commissioned me for a painting as a gift for a friend.”

Kuroo nods. “So you’re in the big leagues now,” he replies simply, cracking his knuckles as he opens a sugar packet.

Akaashi glares. “I’m still your friend,” he growls, squinting. “Just because a semi-famous author has contacted me for a painting doesn’t mean I’ll leave you on the streets.”

Kuroo licks his lips, smirking. “I know, I know. I’m just worried.” He sighs, sipping his coffee. “I just want you to be safe.”

“I could say the same for you,” Akaashi retorts with a little too much heat. He sighs, lowering his head. “I’m sorry that I’ve been so absent. Shoyo and Hitoka-chan’s painting took a lot out of me.”

Kuroo shakes his hands. “It’s fine,” he says with a smile. “You said you had something to tell me? I don’t think it was just Sugawara.”

Akaashi took a deep breath and looks up. Kuroo’s eyes are searching and Akaashi takes the plunge to meet them. “Bokuto-san and I…” He swallows, focusing on Kuroo. 

Kuroo’s eyes are calm, curious if anything. They’re not scared nor judging like Akaashi expected them to be. Akaashi thinks he doesn’t quite know his best friend that well anymore. 

“We kissed.”

Kuroo’s face is unreadable. To be expected. He blinks, blank expression never changing. When he speaks, Akaashi feels himself relax. “Like, peck or he shoved his tongue down your throat and you went with it?”

Akaashi swallows, shifting his feet. “…The… second one.”

“…Rrriiiight…” Kuroo clicks his tongue, smirking. “You know, normally I’d have a problem. But Bo is… I dunno, he’s different now. I thought you’d hate him but look where we are now.”

Akaashi shifts in his seat. “I-I thought that you should know.”

Kuroo reaches forward and pats his hand. “Keiji, it’s fine. At first I was sceptical because of how different you two are, but I shoved my nose where it didn’t belong. I wanted to protect you, but you didn’t need protecting.”

Kuroo’s always been like that; protecting and hoarding what’s his. He knows when to let go and branch out, but he never knows when he’ll lose something. He loves Akaashi and always will but the thought of him leaving Kuroo will undoubtably break him. Kuroo’s eyes are calm and inquisitive and if Akaashi were to lose those sly eyes and sarcastic smirk, he’d go mad too.

Akaashi nods slowly, smiling softly at Kuroo’s hand. “Thank you for worrying about me.”

“As long as you worry about me in return,” Kuroo smiles, squeezing his hand. “You’re my best friend, Keiji. I wouldn’t be me if I didn’t worry about you.” He licks his lips. “You’re just meeting Sugawara, right?”

“Yes.” Akaashi squeezes his hand in return.

“Remember me when you’re famous, Akaashi-sama,” Kuroo laughs. Akaashi rolls his eyes, throwing a sugar packet at him as he continues to laugh and smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter is kinda short lol but the plot?? is starting up lmao. i love writing suga. kenma will be coming soon!


	6. Sugawara Koushi

Sugawara-san is kind. He’s sweet and nice, polite to all those who cross his path. Akaashi wouldn’t put it past him to be bitter once and a while; he clearly deserves it.

“Thank you so much for meeting me,” Sugawara greets, standing up to shake Akaashi’s hand. The painter is immediately taken back. Sugawara Koushi _thanking him for meeting him today_. Sugawara Koushi! A famous author thanking Akaashi Keiji, an average landscape artist at best for meeting him. Akaashi responses with the only way he knows how.

“I should be thanking you,” he says with a smile. “You’re the Sugawara Koushi. I couldn’t be more flattered that you like my work.”

“Oh, you’re buttering me up,” Sugawara replies, waving him off. “Think nothing of it! I’m just a customer. No fancy name attached.”

“Fancy is hardly enough to describe your name,” Akaashi insists. Sugawara chuckles, covering his mouth.

“I suppose compliments can go a long way, don’t you think?” Sugawara sighs. “But I mustn’t lie to you. You’re aware that I am friends with Kozume?”

Akaashi nods slowly, wondering where this is going. “I am well aware. Excuse me if this sounds rude, but what does this have to do with the commission?” He orders two coffees for them quickly.

“No, no, it’s not rude,” Sugawara dismisses. “Kozume will be releasing another novel soon. You can keep a secret, yes?”

Akaashi swallows. “I… Yes, I can. But why ask me to paint for Kozume?”

Sugawara grins, leaning forward. “You’re more worthy than you think, Akaashi-kun. Believe it or not, I frequent the market you paint at. And Hinata-kun is my tea seller. Your paintings are plastered all over his store.”

Akaashi feels himself flush. He looks down at his hands. “I guess I ought to thank Shoyo then,” he laughs and Sugawara smiles again.

Sugawara gets to work, pulling out his notes and handing them to Akaashi. Akaashi wasn’t sure how long they spent together. Draft after draft, broken lead after broken lead. He and Sugawara talk a lot, learning much up each other.

“I’m thinking the second one. What do you think?”

Akaashi studies Sugawara’s choice. A classic chest up bust with one of Kozume’s characters in the centre, a crow on her forearm while a cat is perched on a alleyway fire escape behind her. Akaashi nods, looking at the concept.

“That could work,” he agrees. “But I would have to know what the character looks like. Isn’t that confidential?”

“It’s confidential if you tell someone,” Sugawara responds, sipping his tea. “But I’m sure you won’t. Considering how much trouble you could be in for leaking information, I doubt you will. Am I correct in saying that?” His smile is sweet but his words are dark.

Akaashi nods. “You are correct. Would you like me to take an oath?”

“Christ, it’s not a cult!” Sugawara laughs, crossing his legs under the table. “I trust you, Akaashi-kun. You’re a good man, I can tell.”

“I appreciate that, Sugawara-san,” he replies and Sugawara smiles. He reaches over for Akaashi’s notebook and begins writing, even going as far to scribble down a rough draft but alas, the gifted Sugawara Koushi cannot draw. It’s truly one of his most hated qualities. Being an author and not being able to print his characters apparently is a big deal to him, but that’s why people like Akaashi exist; to give coloured image to words that you can’t paint in your brain. Sugawara is eternally grateful for that.

“Here we are,” the author smiles, giving back his notebook. “I hope my drawing didn’t throw you off.”

Akaashi laughs through his nose. “It’s fine,” he says. “I think she’s cute. I should be able to paint something with this, but I’ll contact you if I need more help.”

“Of course,” Sugawara laughs. “Message me anytime, Akaashi-kun. I’m only a phone call away. Oh!” He grabs Akaashi’s wrist before he can stand. “Kozume would enjoy meeting you. He knows I’m doing this for me, he just doesn’t know what you’re going to paint.”

“Kozume wants to meet me?” Akaashi echoes, eyes slightly wide.

“Yes,” Sugawara agrees. “Kozume would quite like it. I’ve told him of your painting in Hinata-kun’s shop. He says your art is quite pleasing. He’d be happy to meet you.”

“Then I-“ Akaashi stops himself. “I… I will meet him, if he would like.” _Tetsurou is going to kill me._

All Akaashi can think about is how Sugawara’s cheeks don’t hurt from smiling so much.

 

Bokuto packs his things, throwing his bag up to Akaashi’s balcony. He pulls himself over, tripping over his bag and landing face first on the ground. He rises up slowly, cheek stinging, and grabs his bag.

He opens Akaashi’s door, closing it quickly to not let the cold air in. He throws his bag to the floor, taking his saxophone case off his back more delicately and collapses on Akaashi’s bed, undoubtedly waking the painter up. He groaned, wrapping his arms around Akaashi.

“Bokuto-san?” Akaashi whispers, frowning slightly. “What’s wrong? It’s four am.”

“Tired,” Bokuto mumbles, planting a kiss on Akaashi’s neck. “Show went longer than I thought.”

“Was it good?”

“You weren’t there.”

“You’ve played without me before. You haven’t known me your whole life.”

“’S different now.” He sighs, closing his eyes. “How was Sugawara?”

“He’s very kind,” Akaashi says, rolling over to face him. “He told me his client. Do you want to know who I’m painting for?”

Bokuto mock gasps, kissing his nose. “Boy, do I ever!” he laughs. Akaashi smiles, running his thumb across Bokuto’s cheekbone.

“Kozume Kenma.”

Bokuto swallows. His eyes went wide when he realises Akaashi wasn’t joking. Bokuto smiled, kissing him repetitively. “This is amazing!” he laughs, pulling him close. “Kozume! This is big, Keiji!”

“I’m excited to work with him,” Akaashi says. Bokuto grins, but his smile drops.

“Does Tetsu know?” he asks and Akaashi shakes his head.

“He’d pester me too much,” Akaashi replies solemnly. “And I can’t tell you what I’m painting. It’s personal, according to Sugawara-san. I can’t reveal anything.”

Bokuto nods. “I guess that’s fair. I understand.” Akaashi hums in agreement, and smiles when Bokuto leans in. He kissed him slowly, Bokuto’s lips soft against his. Akaashi leaned over him, staring down at him. Bokuto’s gold eyes watched him, making him shiver when he spoke.

“You’re beautiful…” Bokuto whispers. “Absolutely gorgeous.”

“Stop that,” Akaashi says with no bite. “I should be telling you that.”

Bokuto’s hand reaches up, brushing against Akaashi’s cheek. He smiled, kissing him again. “But I’m telling you now. And I’m not lying.”

Akaashi averts his eyes but a smile is on his lips. He lays his head on Bokuto’s chest, sighing contently. Bokuto strokes his hand up his spine, Michelangelo kneading the blanket between his legs before sitting down and purring softly.

“When do you start painting?” Bokuto whispers.

“Hopefully soon. I have thoughts planned out for it but I need to meet with Sugawara-san again after I’ve done some drafts.” Akaashi hums. “Sugawara-san knows him best, after all.”

Bokuto nods, burying his nose into Akaashi’s hair. Akaashi looks up at him and places a kiss on his jaw. Bokuto smiles and kisses him properly, the two of them slowly kissing until they pull away. They fall asleep forehead to forehead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i say this every week but kenma is coming next chapter im sorry for the wait lol  
> and some bokuto love bc i missed him lol


	7. Lily

The thing about Akaashi Keiji is that work basically rules his life once he gets a solid job offer. He completely shuts himself off, only speaking to his “dealer”, as Kuroo calls it. It’s unhealthy but it’s what gets him through.

Usually, Akaashi tells people about his clients. Kuroo was there for Hitoka, he was there for his own painting of course, he was there for Yaku, Noya, even Hanamaki.

So when Akaashi stops talking to Kuroo, only occasionally sending some texts about funny jokes or something, Kuroo gets suspicious.

“You know anything?” he asks Bokuto and he stares at him like a deer caught in the headlight. His cheeks flush in embarrassment and he scratches his neck.

“About what?” he has the audacity to ask and Kuroo leans forward, eyes dark.

“About Akaashi’s client,” he replies and Bokuto swallows. “You do know something. Spit it out.”

“I promised I wouldn’t tell!” Bokuto whines, shifting his feet. “It’s really important to him!”

“So important he couldn’t tell me?” Kuroo scoffs. “No offence, Bo, but you’re worse at keeping secrets than I am. You’re lucky Oikawa had feelings for Iwaizumi or else that entire thing would not have happened.” 

Bokuto averts his eyes, biting his lip. “You won’t like it…”

Bokuto is sweet. Everyone knows this. It does Kuroo’s head in sometimes how goddamn loyal he is to people because when Kuroo wants information, Bokuto will take any kick punch and slap to keep his mouth shut.

He hates picking sides; Bokuto is a Switzerland guy through and through. He won’t pick a side and neither will Kuroo unless he knows the other is completely wrong. 

But that’s Bokuto’s downfall. He doesn’t pick sides, so he ends up blurting things out to both parties. Kuroo shouldn’t be using him like this; it’s wrong, for lack of a better description. Bokuto is kind and sweet and only trying to protect Akaashi’s client. But Kuroo is desperate at this point. 

“Who is it, Bokuto?” he asks, raising an eyebrow and Bokuto swallows.

“I can’t tell you.”

“Bokuto-“

“I can’t!” he says, standing up. “I promised Akaashi!” He completely slanders Akaashi’s name but he’s shaking his head to and fro like a child avoiding a piece of gross food. Kuroo grabs his shoulders, smacking him in the face.

“Trust me, Bokuto!” he says. “I know you’re protecting Akaashi but…” He sighs. “Akaashi doesn’t talk much when he’s working on stuff. I get that. Things keep him busy so I don’t disturb him. But… I’m just worried.”

Bokuto pouts. “I-I understand but…”

“Who am I gonna tell, Bo?” Kuroo smiles, roughly rubbing Bokuto’s cheek. The musician considers that before looking up at him with bright eyes.

“You’re right!” he grins. “Akaashi’s working for Sugawara Koushi!”

“I already knew that, buddy.” Kuroo smiles again and Bokuto licks his lips.

“Sugawara commissioned for Kozume Kenma.”

Kuroo’s eyes widen and he lets Bokuto’s face go. Bokuto watches him, eyes wide and concerned.

“Kozume Kenma…”

“It’s just that it’s-“ Bokuto begins but Kuroo holds up a hand.

“Confidential.” He sighs, laying his head back. “He didn’t want to tell me because it’s Kozume, right?”

Bokuto shakes his head frantically but Kuroo’s face hardens. “Tell me the truth,” he hisses and Bokuto swallows.

“Yeah… It’s personal to Sugawara and Kozume, so he didn’t tell me what he was painting.”

“I don’t give a shit about what he’s painting,” Kuroo snaps. “I’m upset because he lied to me. He said he was only meeting Sugawara.”

“Well, he said he hadn’t met Kozume yet because technically Sugawara is his client,” Bokuto says and that calms Kuroo down a little. His shoulders relax slightly and Bokuto gives him a small smile.

“It’ll be okay,” Bokuto insists and Kuroo sighs.

“I’ll talk to him,” he says and Bokuto tenses up. Kuroo looks at him and smiles. 

“It’s alright, dude. Akaashi’s… We’ll be okay.”

 

_Kenma wants to meet you._

Akaashi stands in front of Kozume’s door, Sugawara’s words from a few days ago ringing in his ears. He attempts to muster up the courage to lift his hand to knock but he can’t. It’s not how it works. You don’t just knock on a famous author’s door and say “Hi! I was wondering if you could _let me talk to you about your own design of characters.”_

Akaashi pretty much prays for God to strike him down before he knocks but he remembers Kuroo’s smile when he once watched him paint one of Kozume’s previous protagonists and the way he talks about all of Kozume’s books and the smile he has on his face when he proudly admits he has all of the author’s novels printed and hard cover.

He might as well just being doing this for Kuroo because he’s not even thinking about how much he can benefit from this. He realises that he’s doing this because he’s treating Sugawara Koushi and Kozume Kenma as customers. Only now when he thinks about who they really are does he stand rigid with his shoulder blades pressed tightly together and his bottom lip between his teeth.

To business Akaashi, Sugawara is another person who sees his paintings as another pretty asset to his dining room wall but to the Akaashi that stands in front of Kozume’s door with his hand pressed against the wood, Sugawara Koushi is the Sugawara Koushi, like he is to everyone else.

Akaashi mutters a _fuck it_ before knocking loud and clear. Maybe a little too loudly.

Kozume is the one to open his door _(of course he would be, it’s his apartment, Keiji.)_ He looks up at Akaashi and turns his head to glance back into the apartment.

“Akaashi-kun!” comes Sugawara’s voice and Kozume nods.

“Kozume Kenma,” he says, offering a hand to Akaashi. The artist takes it with no word before Kozume invites him inside. He looks around and swallows.

Of course Kozume’s apartment would be covered in posters of his books and artwork. Akaashi can recognise some artist styles and feels himself relax. What he didn’t expect was all the merchandise of different franchises posted all over his walls too. It makes him feel happy, knowing that the prestigious Kozume Kenma, the young author of twenty years old is a secretly a little kid still lost in his fantasies. 

Akaashi assumes that the desk covered with papers and a computer in the middle is Kozume’s and he notices the dark circles under Kozume’s bright gold eyes. Kozume nods to Sugawara and the silver haired man invites Akaashi to sit near the window with him.

“Kenma, this is Akaashi Keiji. The painter,” he says and Kozume extends his hand again, eyes blank.

“It’s an honour to meet you, Kozume-san,” Akaashi says, crossing his legs. “Are you well?”

“I am, thank you,” Kozume responds and his voice is quiet. Akaashi expected him to be soft spoken but speaking to the real deal is quite different. There’s no microphone to pick up his speech no matter how quiet it is. His gold eyes avert from Akaashi and land on his bag.

Akaashi picks up his messenger bag, unrolling some of the sketches he’s been working on. “So this is what I was thinking…”

Kozume leans forward and his eyes instantly focus on the centre drawing of his character. He studies the woman, curly blonde hair and green turtle neck sweater up to her chin and can’t help a small smile cover his lips.

“My Lily,” he says quietly, tilting his head. “You draw her so differently to other artists. But I like it.” He traces a finger over one of her astray curls. “I like how different she looks. Your style is unique.”

“Thank you, Kozume-san,” Akaashi says warmly. “Her hair was difficult as you describe it as frizzy and curly and I don’t usually work with textures like that but it was good to get it down.”

“Her hair is even difficult to describe sometimes,” Kozume responds. “I’m glad you could salvage what you did from my words.”

“That’s what I’m here for,” Akaashi smiles. Kozume’s eyes are still on his character. “Is there anything I need to change?”

Kozume studies his character again and begins to jot down particular features Akaashi has missed. For a rough draft, of course he missed a few things. Kozume notes that she has three distinct beauty marks and a scar through one of her eyebrows. Sugawara gets them tea at one point, coming back with steaming cups as the two of them converse.

They talk and listen to Akaashi’s pencil scratch against his sketchbook. Sugawara’s music fills the room and Akaashi looks down before glancing back up when he hears a snore coming from Kozume.

His blonde hair drapes over the back of the seat, his head tossed back. His finger twitches before settling and Sugawara comes back in, shoulders slumping at the sight of Kozume.

“I’m sorry about this,” Sugawara says, patting Kozume’s head. “He’s been running himself dry with his novel. I don’t think he remembers how to sleep.”

Akaashi smiles, beginning to collect his things. “Well, be sure to thanked him once he wakes up. Today was useful.”

“I’ve glad we could help,” Sugawara smiles. “Well, Kenma-kun more than me, of course. Thank you for coming, Akaashi-kun.”

“Thank you for having me, Sugawara-san,” he responds, giving him a quick bow. 

“Get home safe!” Sugawara calls once Akaashi opens the door. The artist nods, waving to him quickly before leaving. Akaashi thinks he hears Sugawara sigh and mutter something about Kozume snoring.

 

About a week later, Sugawara greets Akaashi in Kozume’s apartment, patting his back. There’s a broom in his hand and no Kozume in sight.

“Is he-“ Akaashi asks but Sugawara presses a finger to his own lips.

“Sleeping,” he whispers. “The editor told him this morning that he’s almost finished with his novel, so he’s passed out ever since.”

Akaashi nods. He knows exactly how that feels. After Hitoka’s painting, Akaashi had completely passed out for almost twenty-four hours. 

Sugawara smiles at him, leading him into the apartment. “How are you? Are you okay?”

“I’m good,” he responds, sitting down. Sugawara hands him a cup of tea, smiling wider.

“I’m glad,” Sugawara replies, sitting down with him. “Kenma has been running on empty, like I said, so I’ve just been taking care of him.”

“His novel’s coming out soon, so that’s all that matters right now, right?” Akaashi responds and Sugawara nods solemnly.

“Unfortunately,” Sugawara replies. Akaashi hands him the final copies on his drafts, pulling up a picture of his painting so far. Sugawara takes them from him and glances between the two, his brown eyes igniting.

“They’re… They’re beautiful!” Sugawara exclaims. He immediately covers his mouth with Akaashi’s phone when he realises how loud he was. “I love them, Akaashi-kun,” he adds in a quieter voice.

“Thank you, Sugawara-san,” he responds gratefully. Sugawara goes to hand his things back but pulls his hands up quickly.

“Suga-san is fine,” he winks and Akaashi smiles.

“Thank you, Suga-san.” Sugawara grins, handing him his things back before standing up. A door creaks somewhere in the apartment and Akaashi follows Sugawara gaze to a sleepy Kozume.

“What time is it,” he deadpans, a hand pressed against his forehead.

“Two in the afternoon,” Sugawara responds, offering a hand to him. “How did you sleep?”

Kozume sniffs, cracking his neck. “I’ve had better,” he shrugs. “But it was good after the book.”

Sugawara nods, sighing. Kozume shakes Akaashi’s hand, his eyes widening.

“I must have been out of it when we first met,” Kozume mumbles. “But your hands are incredibly soft.”

Akaashi rubs his fingers against the palms of his hands before huffing a short laugh. “I’ve never noticed. But thank you.”

Kozume swallows, sniffing. He yawns, covering his mouth with his hand before staring out the window. 

Kozume is surprisingly easy to talk to. He’s calm and quiet but although the conversation to onlookers might come across as one sided as all hell, it’s not. Kozume is great at listening and it’s what he does. He watches and observes, taking notes in his mind to access later. Akaashi knows he’s studying him and his gaze is intense but Akaashi finds that he doesn’t mind.

Sugawara is a lot different, considering that the two of them are ranked on the same level. Sugawara seems to be on a higher arch than Kozume, but he doesn’t believe that. Despite being an author and having to take care of himself, he says he takes care of Kozume more than anything else. Kozume doesn’t seem to mind, as long as it’s Sugawara and Akaashi finds himself agreeing. Sugawara seems to be the mother figure to just about anyone. He’s sweet, kind and always ready to talk about Kozume’s achievements like a proud parent. It’s cute, if anything.

“It’s not just me that’s proud,” Sugawara smiles, patting Kozume’s head. “Sawamura, the sergeant? Do you know him?”

Akaashi shakes his head, giving an awkward shrug. “Well, I know of him but no, I can’t say I know him personally. Don’t tell me Kozume-san was a delinquent?”

“God, no!” Sugawara laughs. “I’m young, but Kenma’s only twenty. He was trying to make his debut at seventeen when I met him. I was twenty five.” He laughs. “Sawamura and I… We met through him. I guess I ought to thank you, Kenma.” He smiles, shaking his head. “I wouldn’t have realised my feelings for sergeant without his help.”

“You were tiptoeing around each other,” Kozume mumbles, his cheeks pink from the praise. 

“I’m sure I’ll be in the news soon,” Sugawara says, running his fingers through Kozume’s hair. Akaashi frowns, tilting his head.

“Why’s that, Suga-san?” he asks and Sugawara’s smile had never felt so cheerful.

“Daichi is planning to propose,” he replies and Akaashi can feel his happiness radiating off him. He sighs, his eyes clear and Akaashi thinks this is the most at peace he’s ever seen the author.

Akaashi’s phone vibrates in his hand and it startles him. He spots Kuroo’s contact but ignores it, letting it ring. He had told Kuroo not to call him today, he thinks with a roll of his eyes. It’s the street artist’s own fault.

Akaashi’s not sure how long he spends with Sugawara and Kozume but it’s enough for Kuroo to leave him three missed calls and four texts. He takes his leave, pressing his phone to his ear as he waves to Sugawara who’s closing the door behind him.

Kuroo doesn’t pick up and Akaashi rolls his eyes. He had called three minutes ago so Akaashi thinks he can’t be far.

“Are you alright?”

Akaashi turns, meeting Sugawara’s eyes. He blinks at him before frowning.

“Yes, I’m fine. Are you?”

Sugawara averts his eyes, looking for his words. He swallows and shrugs. “I’ll be better soon. It’s late, Akaashi-kun. Maybe it’d be better if you stayed? I wouldn’t want you heading home and Kenma told me it might rain.”

Akaashi stares at him before glancing at his phone. He blinks before nodding. “Y-Yeah, that… That might be best. If you don’t mind, of course?”

“It’s no problem,” Sugawara smiles. “I know you can probably take care of yourself, but I’d still worry.”

Akaashi nods, giving him a small smile. “Thank you, Suga-san. You’re very kind.”

“I’ve been told,” he smiles. Akaashi hears the first shower of rain fall on the roofs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here's kenma as promised lmao  
> there's a lot going on in this chapter but i guess the official "plot" is happening now? also sorry about kuroo but he's gonna be sad for a lil bit ):


	8. Guten morgen, Akaashi-san

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yamaguchi nods, pursing his lips. He breaks out into a smile suddenly, turning his body fully to Akaashi with his hands clasped together. “I think I have something that will cheer you up!” he says, rocking back and forth on his feet.  
> Akaashi tries to dismiss him, mumbling that he doesn’t want another flower if that’s the offer but Yamaguchi raises his voice, calling out into the market.

Akaashi yawns, pushing his cart into the market. Sugawara was kind enough to walk him back to his lighthouse, waving to him before he disappeared into the tower a few days back. All Akaashi had done at Kozume’s apartment was listen to the two of them bicker while Sugawara made dinner. Sugawara had then fallen asleep after two glasses of wine and Kozume set up the couch for Akaashi.

Sugawara had apologised in the morning, feeling guilty for putting on such a “pathetic” show as he had called it but Akaashi had just shaken his head and smiled his thank yous.

What Akaashi never did was ask what Kuroo wanted, but Kuroo didn’t seem to want to bring it up again. Despite texting him with a _what did you want?_ Kuroo has only read it before sending a weird emoji and that was Akaashi’s cue to give up. Sugawara had told him it’d be okay and Akaashi had only shrugged. Kozume had agreed with Sugawara, waving Akaashi off with tired eyes.

Akaashi tries to clear his mind and waves to Hinata as he passes, rubbing his eyes. Yamaguchi greets him with another flower once he reaches the flower stall and he takes it, offering a tired smile. Yamaguchi’s eyes soften, looking more concerned than he usually does.

“You don’t look so good, Akaashi-san…” Yamaguchi says, tilting his head. “Are you alright? I can get you some tea from Hinata if you’re not feeling well! Or I could-”

“I’m fine,” he replies, waving him off. “Just tired. Nothing you need to worry about, Yamaguchi-kun.” He rubs his eyes again, yawning. He had been working on reworking some of the curls in Kozume’s painting and had added the crow that perched on her shoulder in the early hours of the morning.

Yamaguchi nods, pursing his lips. He breaks out into a smile suddenly, turning his body fully to Akaashi with his hands clasped together. “I think I have something that will cheer you up!” he says, rocking back and forth on his feet. 

Akaashi tries to dismiss him, mumbling that he doesn’t want another flower if that’s the offer but Yamaguchi raises his voice, calling out into the market.

“Tsukki! Akaashi-san is here!”

Akaashi’s eyes widen and he stares at Yamaguchi. Kageyama cracks his neck behind him, looking peeved at the use of the nickname. “T-Tsukki? Tsukishima-kun’s back from Germany?”

Yamaguchi nods, smiling at him. “He won’t admit it, but he’s excited to see you!”

Akaashi looks up the brick road, finding the familiar blonde hair he’s too reluctant to admit he missed. He has too many questions, all along the lines of _When? How? Why?_

Tsukishima turns from whatever shop he’s been looking at and meets Akaashi’s eyes. He nods to the stall owner before shoving his hands into his pockets. He stands in front of Akaashi, face blank.

Akaashi shakes his head, pulling him in for a hug. Tsukishima tenses up, just like he always has but softens after a few moments, patting Akaashi’s head.

“ _Guten morgen_ , Akaashi-san,” Tsukishima says quietly and Akaashi chuckles, shaking his head. “How have you been?”

“Tired, as Yamaguchi-kun has pointed out,” he replies, sighing. His eyes soften as he looks at Tsukishima, noticing his features. His hair is longer, sweeping over his forehead. His glasses seem to be new, a blue tinge on the inside. His eyes still hold the same brightness and intensity that Akaashi has always loved, and no surprise, he’s grown.

“How much?” Akaashi asks, knowing Tsukishima will know what he’s referring to.

“Only a little bit,” he replies, sniffing. “Not as much as Hungary.”

Akaashi hums, nodding. “Sit with me. How much time do you have?”

“I don’t go back to Germany for another month or so,” Tsukishima answers. He glances at Yamaguchi and his eyes soften. “He asked me to come back as a joke, but Germany had seen enough of me.”

Akaashi smiles softly, unpacking his chairs. “He’s missed you,” he whispers once Tsukishima sits down and crosses his legs. Tsukishima watches the markets, grimacing once he sees Hinata jumping up and down in front of Kageyama, pointing to Tsukishima.

“I know,” he replies to Akaashi without looking back. “I’ve missed him too. And I missed you, as well.”

“What, do you want a kiss on the cheek?” Akaashi teases, setting up his paints. He chuckles. “I’ve missed you too, Tsukishima-kun. Tell me about Germany.”

Tsukishima spends almost two hours talking. Considering that he’s usually so quiet, it’s good for Akaashi to hear his voice again. Four months in Germany sounds amazing from what Tsukishima has told him, playing his heart out on stage, never the same piano twice, but Akaashi can tell how much he’s missed home.

Akaashi flips his easel, showing Tsukishima the sketch he’s drawn while the blonde has been talking. Tsukishima’s shoulders slump and he looks at Akaashi.

“You drew while I described?” he asks and Akaashi nods.

“Germany sounds wonderful,” he replies, flipping the easel back. “I can’t imagine being away for so long.”

“You seem to have gotten busy while I’ve been gone,” Tsukishima says, his eyes on Yamaguchi as he serves a little boys with a bouquet of roses too big for him.

Akaashi swallows, his cheeks going pink. Of course Yamaguchi told him. Why wouldn’t he have? He’s basically been the talk of the town since Bokuto came into his life.

“Well, I-“

“It’s fine,” Tsukishima interrupts, meeting his eyes. “I only want to know one thing. Does he treat you well?”

Akaashi simply nods, switching through his brushes. “He treats me quite well.”

“Then it’s fine,” Tsukishima decides, closing his eyes. He pushes up his glasses, heaving a sigh. “Nii-san is probably waiting for me. I’ll see you soon?”

Akaashi nods again, staring at him. “Thank you. For coming to see me.”

Tsukishima nods, standing up. He quickly presses a kiss to Akaashi’s head and heads off, leaving Akaashi feeling calm and relieved. Tsukishima has that effect on him.

His phone buzzes in his pocket and he sees Tsukishima’s contact.

 _I hope I can still do that despite the status?_ he texts and Akaashi snorts. Tsukishima doesn’t push his boundaries if he actually respects the person so Akaashi’s grateful for him. Kageyama sure sin’t, and neither is Hinata but whatever.

 _Yes_ , is all he texts back and he locks his phone, pocketing it.

Tsukishima and Akaashi had always been close. He’s always been Akaashi’s form of an annoying little brother. Tsukishima is surprisingly caring, despite coming off as a pissy little girl sometimes. He’s temperamental, but sarcastic and somehow loveable despite being the equivalent of a six foot three salt pillar.

Akaashi sighs, rolling his head back. He sniffs, sending a glance Kageyama’s way before his eyes drop.

“What is it, Kageyama-kun?” he asks and Kageyama shifts. He blinks, averting his eyes.

“Tsukishima’s different,” he replies. “He’s not as pissy. It’s kinda weird.”

“Ever since Shoyo-kun started giving you tea as gifts, I think you’ve lost a few wrinkles,” Akaashi deadpans, swiping his paint brush. Kageyama scowls at him but Akaashi doesn’t meet his eyes.

“Does it matter if he’s changed?” Akaashi asks. “Being away changes people, Kageyama-kun. He’ll be fine once he gets settled in. He was the same when he got back from Hungary.”

Kageyama sighs, crossing his arms. “You’re right about Hinata. I am different. Maybe I’m changing too.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t be reluctant to change,” Akaashi replies. He realises how deep that sounds but he glances at Kageyama, who’s lips are slightly lifting in a smile, also realising that maybe it’s the push Kageyama needs.

“I shouldn’t,” the florist responds, sniffing. “You’re always right, Akaashi-san.”

“Hardly,” Akaashi says, rolling his eyes. “But I’m glad I could help.”

 

 

“Has he been answering you?”

Kuroo’s question startles him. Bokuto blinks at Kuroo, looking up from polishing Silvia. Oikawa is squinting at himself in the mirror, slipping his contact into his eye. Girls mingle and move around him, chatting and practising lines. Kuroo isn’t looking at him, his eyes on Yaku’s fingers as he wiggles them inside his glove.

“Akaashi?” Bokuto asks and Kuroo nods, side eyeing him. “He’s been busy, dude. He sends me a text every now and then about work and stuff! He’s okay…”

Kuroo nods, cracking his neck. He looks scared, not angry. He’s clearly worried, but Bokuto has a hard time dealing with people like Kuroo. He hides his feelings and always insists everything is fine. He waves his hands, smiling everyone’s fears away. Bokuto knows him, knows what Kuroo does.

Bokuto’s eyebrows lift in concern, looking up at Oikawa for help. The brunette sighs, heading over to Kuroo and gripping his face. Kuroo makes the human equivalent of a growl, glaring up at Oikawa.

“Quit pouting,” the dancer hisses. “I’m the only one that it looks cute on, kitty.”

Kuroo tries to wrench his face away but Oikawa shakes his head. “Don’t start with me, boy. I get enough angry sex from Iwa-chan and frankly, he’s the only one that growl at me like that.”

“You’re a piece of work, you know that?” Kuroo says back, his yellow eyes glowing. Oikawa stares at him before grinning.

“I’m aware, honey,” he replies, pushing his face away. “This friend of yours seems busy. We all know what we get like when we’re busy. So, take the stick out of your ass, and move along.” His smile is devilish, his eyes dark.

“You’re a lot prettier from far away,” Kuroo whispers and Oikawa’s smile grows.

“You know how much a high heel to the boys hurts?” he asks and Kuroo immediately crosses his legs. Bokuto glances between the two, his eyes frantic. His mind is running a million miles an hour, his mouth spewing before he can stop it.

“I’m sure Akaashi doesn’t mean it!” he says, waving his hands. “He’s just busy! Painting takes up a lot of time, and he’s working for-“

Kuroo sends him a look and at least he’s considerate enough not to reveal Akaashi’s client. Bokuto swallows and sighs.

“Why don’t you go and see him like you said you would?”

Kuroo sighs, standing up. He shrugs. “Akaashi don’t like to see anyone when he’s working. He likes to get everything down with no distractions. I’m sure you know that by now.”

Bokuto bites his lip, averting his eyes.

“I’m gonna head out,” Kuroo says and Bokuto must look like a scared kid because Kuroo’s face morphs into a smile and he ruffles Bokuto’s hair. “I’ll be safe, don’t stress. I’m always okay.”

Bokuto blinks again, watching Kuroo leave. Oikawa sniffs but Kuroo ignores him, waving his hand as he heads out of the showhouse.

The cold air hits him and his hometown has never felt so strange. Smoke still smells the same, along with the alcohol stains on the alleyway ground. But Kuroo knows he must be changing because if the familiar smoke and alcohol smells different to him when he’s never known anything else, something is clearly wrong.

 _Keiji will contact me_ , he tells himself. His mind is nothing but helpful, spitting fire at him.

 _Will he?_ comes the reply and Kuroo clenches his teeth. The smoke fills his teeth and he turns his head, finding Iwaizumi on the ground, cigarette in his fingers.

“You smoke?” Kuroo finds himself asking and Iwaizumi looks up. His face is slightly bruised, his mouth adorning a bloody lip. Kuroo’s eyes widen but Iwaizumi only smiles.

“It’s alright,” he says, waving his cigarette. “You want?”

“I might be an alcohol enthusiast but I ain’t a smoker,” Kuroo replies, sliding down the wall next to him. “Sorry, Hajime.”

Iwaizumi sniffs, shrugging. “Sorry ‘bout the blood. Got into a fight. Tooru won’t be happy so keep quiet about it, yeah?”

Kuroo nods before chuckling. The cigarette smoke filters around them, Iwaizumi closing his eyes and presses his head against the wall.

Iwaizumi Hajime. He’s a modern day mystery. No one knows where he lives, what his job is and how he ever ended up with Oikawa Tooru besides Bokuto intervening. It’s a mystery, and Kuroo loves it. He’s not a street artist, and has stated many times that he refuses to be called that but he never reveals too much about himself. He’s cautious but he always shows up at the right time and Kuroo is grateful he’s here now.

“You alright?” Iwaizumi asks, his eyes still closed. Kuroo pulls his knees into his chest, burying his nose into them.

“Just worried,” he says and Iwaizumi nods. 

Iwaizumi is one of those people who’s scary but actually the softest guy underneath. Kuroo loves him, Tooru loves him, everyone loves him. He’s easy to get along with if you don’t piss him off and he’s easy to talk to. That’s why Kuroo loves him; it’s Iwaizumi. There’s nothing to be ashamed of with Iwaizumi and he’s comfortable.

“Ever told you how much I love you?” Kuroo asks and Iwaizumi snorts.

“I can guess how much,” he replies and Kuroo grins, lifting his head to lean it on Iwaizumi’s shoulder. He thinks as Iwaizumi’s smoke disappears into the air.

_I think I might disappear for a while._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here's tsukki! kuroo is sad and iwaizumi is a babe. tsukki is a good part later on ((:  
> feedback! please!


	9. Izakaya

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Think of the banquet as drinking at Izakaya after grad!” he says, waving his hand. “Except your pretty date, also known as me, will be there to pick you up instead of you meeting up with your friends. All you have to do it look pretty.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> izakaya is kind of like japan's version of prom or formal i'd say. they don't have school dances or anything so instead they go to izakaya which is a bar where students after graduation go for drinks pretty much lol. hopefully i described that right!

“A banquet?”

Sugawara makes an awkward face at Akaashi’s question, shrugging his shoulders. “Uh, not quite?” he tries, making another weird face. His eyebrows furrow as he struggles for words. “It won’t be extremely big or anything like that. None of Hollywood’s superstars will be there. Well, maybe a few but I doubt it.”

Kozume’s eyes widen and he raises his head to look at Sugawara. The author quickly retracts his statement. “That was a joke! I was joking!” he says, slamming the bench top with his hands. He looks frantically at Akaashi as Kozume lowers his head again.

“You really are stressed…” Akaashi mumbles, eyebrows lifting in concern and Sugawara’s face drops with a sigh. It’s true; Sugawara’s eyes are sunken in, rimmed with dark circles and his normally fluffy neat hair is all over the place. He’s still keeping up his act though, looking well groomed in the clothing department despite his face and eyes. He’s still young, but sleep deprived sugawara makes him look way older than he actually is.

Kozume visibly relaxes, slumping into the love seat. He buries his nose into the book on his lap and Akaashi smiles when he sees that it’s one of Sugawara’s. He knew they supported each other but seeing it in real time was a new feeling.

Still, Akaashi furrows his brows at the banquet topic, shifting his body with his tea held up so he doesn’t spill it. “I understand organising something for Kozume-san, but why for me?” he asks, looking at Sugawara.

The author recoils, looking mildly disgusted and Akaashi is afraid he’s offended him. “Akaashi-kun, you’ve done so much for us,” he says, leaning forward on the bench. Akaashi thinks that if he was closer to Sugawara, the man would have grabbed his shoulders and shaken him. Sugawara frowns, almost as if he’s confused at Akaashi’s questioning.

Akaashi blinks at him, setting down his tea before sighing. “I really haven’t-“

“And this is where I stop you,” Sugawara says dismissively, turning on his heel and opening the oven. “You were about to deny your involvement, yes?”

The smell from whatever is cooking flows through the house and Kozume sighs contently as he turns a page, a small smile on his lips.

“Well, I-“ Akaashi’s face drops when Sugawara holds up his hand, cutting him off again. He feels like a child to Sugawara when he does this. Kozume chuckles from his seat.

“Akaashi-kun, listen. To me, a man who cannot draw even if you held a gun to my forehead, you are an extremely talented person. You paint not what you see but what you feel and the respect I have for you is higher than any mountain on Earth.”

He says it calmly, like it’s a passing thought but Akaashi feels his cheeks heat up despite it. Kozume catches this and shake his hair out from his ear to hide his smile as he grabs his phone and types into it.

Sugawara lays whatever he just pulled out of the oven (Akaashi thinks it must with apple pie with the way Kozume’s mouth is watering from over the couch) and sighs. Sugawara’s phone vibrates and he grins at it.

“Very funny, Kenma,” he says, locking his phone. Kozume somehow rolls himself over the back of the love seat, landing awkwardly on his feet before heading to the kitchen, hunched over with a plate in both hands. He raises up to the bench and Sugawara waves his hand to present the pie.

Kozume’s eyes glow and he takes the big knife from Sugawara, slicing into the pie. Sugawara smiles as he watches before looking up at Akaashi.

“Think of the banquet as drinking at Izakaya after grad!” he says, waving his hand. “Except your pretty date, also known as me, will be there to pick you up instead of you meeting up with your friends. All you have to do it look pretty.”

“I never went to Izakaya,” Akaashi says and Sugawara grimaces. He looks helplessly at Kozume but the blonde doesn’t help him. He only stuffs his face with the pie, chewing as he stares up at Sugawara.

“We’ll just have to change that, won’t we, Akaashi-kun?” Sugawara smiles and Akaashi blinks.

“Honestly,” Sugawara says, pursing his lips. “I think all of us will need a drink after this.” 

Akaashi can agree with that. He’s been meaning to have a drink before getting the longest sleep he’s had since being in his mother’s womb.

Kozume sticks his tongue, mumbling a “bleh” through all the apple pie in his cheeks and Sugawara nods sadly. 

“I know you hate it,” he says, patting Kozume’s head. “But I’m going to need anything above the third shelf to get me to bed after this. I’ll be sure to get you a nice drink if you decide to have anything.”

Kozume shakes his head, grabbing the entire pie tin and taking it back to Akaashi. He waves his hand and Sugawara grabs some ice cream from the freezer, shoving a big spoon into it and placing it on the table next to the tin. Akaashi is half convinced Kozume will bite off his hand if he goes for a slice but Sugawara is nice enough to serve him up a piece with a scoop of ice cream before Kozume can do anything.

“Thank you,” Akaashi says and he’s sure Sugawara took it as a lot more than thank you for the apple pie.

 

 

Kuroo doesn’t contact him.

Akaashi doesn’t tell him that Tsukishima is back in town.

Akaashi and Kuroo are the same when it comes to one thing: stubbornness. Kuroo is more headstrong than he is but Akaashi is competitive, surprisingly. He won’t back down if he knows he can win.

You’d think it’d be different after eight years of hard friendship, but it’s not and it probably never will be. They’re too similar despite being so painfully different.

He might be being petty but it’s Kuroo own fault. He won’t tell him what he wanted that night when Akaashi told him not to contact him because he was busy so if Kuroo’s going to ignore him, so be it.

Akaashi knows he’s being selfish but so is Kuroo. The guy won’t even talk to him despite Akaashi sending him occasional updates every few days to tell him he’s eating or a random photo of Michelangelo. Kuroo would usually respond with a cat emoji at Michelangelo but now he only reads them with no reply.

And for a guy that hates being left on _read at 8:06pm_ , Kuroo sure fucking does it a lot.

Akaashi talks to Bokuto, of course. It doesn’t seem to be a problem that him and Kuroo aren’t talking about Akaashi wouldn’t be surprised if Kuroo didn’t tell the musician anything. 

Either way it’s become a routine for Akaashi to call him when he gets home so they can talk before Bokuto has a show. It’s calming for Bokuto, to hear Akaashi’s voice before a show and Akaashi thinks it’s sweet. Bokuto talks about everything and nothing; what he did that day, what he ate, if he saw a stray cat on the side of the road. Once Bokuto hangs up, Akaashi paints or sleeps until he hears the soft knocking on his door and sees Bokuto’s shaggy hair and messy penguin suit that’s been wrinkled from climbing up to his lighthouse.

It’s been two weeks since Kuroo called him when he was at Kozume’s. He still hasn’t told Kuroo who he’s working for and he feels guilty but if Kuroo won’t even reply to his texts, how is he supposed to apologise? Kuroo straight up doesn’t respond to anything he says anymore.

Kozume’s book is going to be released in the next week or so, and Akaashi is up to his neck to try to finish the painting before the release. Especially since Sugawara had told him they’d be holding a tiny gallery style presentation for his painting, celebrating his painting along with the release of Kozume’s book, of course. 

With the thoughts of the banquet on top of Akaashi already stressing about his personal life, he feels heavy. He feels shut down mode come in quick and turns off his phone before he can think twice about texting Kuroo again.

 

Akaashi smiles down at a postcard from Nishinoya in his hands, scanning over the violinist’s handwriting. The states are treating him nicely, he says, and Akaashi pins the postcard on the cork board on his wall.

The painting haunts him, must like all of them do. Yamaguchi’s canvas is on the ground next to it, along with Akaashi portfolio. He heaves a sigh, heaving the portfolio up and flicking through the paintings and sketches.

Hinata with a yellow umbrella. _I should finish that._ Head shot of Kageyama from when he wore a tie that one time. _He should wear those more often_ , Hinata had said before grinning. 

Sketches of Sugawara being himself, waving his arms around and presenting himself with a kind smile. Kozume hanging upside down off his chair, another of him sipping his tea as he looks out the window.

Kuroo and his annoying red umbrella. Kuroo with a bouquet of flowers from a random girl on the street because she was feeling generous. Photos of Akaashi and his twin brother that somehow found their way in there and photos of him when he was young, sitting with his father and mother.

Akaashi finds the painting he did when he was nineteen of Kuroo. His hair is down, wet and shiny as he grins. His leather jacket was a bitch to paint, along with his teeth but Akaashi had got it down, along with Kuroo’s coffee coloured fingers popping his collar.

“Need to repaint…” he mumbles. He might just do a pencil drawing instead of painting this time and see what that does for him.

Kuroo. Akaashi screws up his face and turns the page.

Nishinoya is there, painted in oil. It’s dark, his suit dripping just into oil instead of detail. It’s a bust shot and one that Akaashi is extremely proud of. Next to him is an old sketch of Terushima because he just ‘needed to be painted by Akaashi’. _With talent like that, you should be in the museums in France and Italy! not here on the streets!_

Tsukishima is there, looking regal as always. _Don’t make me look like a prince. Oh. You already did._

Yamaguchi is there as well, in grey lead with a flower covering his left eye. _Sunflowers are probably one of my favourite flowers! But I like so many… Do you have a favourite flower, Akaashi-san?_

Designs for Tanaka’s tattoo shop logo is tucked in there too, along with a few photos of Hinata’s tea shop that’s covered wall to wall with Akaashi’s art. He feels proud that Hinata loves his art so much to do that. _I won’t stop until there’s not a spot on this wall that isn’t painted by you, Akaashi-san!_

He’s really gotten far, he realises. There’s so much in the portfolio and he’s only been looking for a few minutes. He’s done so much, but he’s never given himself the time to say congratulations. He’s never given himself the time to relax and feel happy with his accomplishments.

Akaashi closes the portfolio with a small smile. He stands up straight, cracking his back and thinks he can feel someone’s hand on his shoulder. He blinks and the feeling is gone and he feels lonely.

He glances back at Kozume’s painting before cracking his neck loudly, seating himself in front of the painting and readying his hands for work.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> flowerboyayato.tumblr.com


	10. Buy your way to the top

Akaashi has a habit of staring at a painting before convincing himself that he hates it. He’s known many artists who have completed a canvas before smashing it on the ground or putting their foot through it.

Akaashi covers Kozume’s painting every night so he doesn’t wake up and stare at it until he finds something that pisses him off enough to throw the painting into the ocean below his lighthouse.

He does finish the painting in time, which he’s grateful for. He’s lucky to have finished it now, considering that it’s two days before the gallery presentation and he’s relieved, to say the least. 

Sugawara is beyond thankful when he texts him with I’m done. That’s one last thing for Sugawara to worry about. Akaashi has to give him credit. Sugawara has been running around so much to get this presentation in motion and he’s barely had time to sleep. If his eyes and unkept hair were anything to go by when Akaashi last visited, Sugawara is flat out exhausted. Kozume told Akaashi that he put his shirt on backwards and didn’t realise for four hours. He forgot his glasses when going to a meeting and spent an hour extra there because he was struggling to read the forms.

But alas, Sugawara is The Great Sugawara Koushi so he’s still alive and kicking even though he probably wishes someone would just punch him in the nose and say goodnight after they bury his body six feet under.

Akaashi doesn’t blame him for rushing around like a chicken without a head. He’s extremely nervous himself. It took him almost two weeks just to pick out a suit for the organisation and if that’s the biggest problem he’s having, he can’t imagine what’s number one on Sugawara’s _list of things that I have to do before I’m lowered into my grave_. But for Akaashi, suits always seemed to strangle him no matter what, and he knew he was going to be nervous since the second Sugawara had told him about this banquet.

Akaashi sighs, studying himself in the mirror. He straightens his tie before pulling the collar from his neck in attempts to let himself breathe. He smoothes down his waist coat for the probably the eighth time and takes a deep breath before exhaling, ruffling his curls. He swallows, closing his eyes as his hands find his pants pockets. 

A car horn beeps from the beach and Akaashi’s eyes shoot open. He steals one last glance at himself in the mirror before nodding. He grabs his coat, slipping it over his blazer and heading down.

 

 

“This is it!”

Akaashi jumps slightly at Sugawara’s voice, taking a deep breath to calm himself. Sugawara looks at him, dark circles startling bright to Akaashi. He feels the need to ask if he’s okay and almost does but Sugawara must have seen it coming. He dances away from Akaashi, taking a champagne glass from a passing waiter and downs it in one gulp.

Akaashi straightens, more surprised at Sugawara than anything before dropping his shoulders in a tired sigh. His painting is underneath a sheet in front of a large window, the galley style room completely empty except for them. Akaashi glances at it, feeling intimidated by Sugawara’s previous actions as the man laughs with a waiter behind him. 

Kozume is just laying on the floor, fiddling with a ring around his index finger while Sugawara basically dances around the room, empty glass in his fingers. His humming is calming but Akaashi is going to need a little more than Sugawara’s soft singing to stop his hands shaking.

Kozume pulls off his ring before slipping it onto his finger again with a sigh. Akaashi watches him before he crosses the distance towards him.

“Are you alright?” Akaashi asks and Kozume looks up at him with wide eyes.

“Nervous,” is all he says and Akaashi grabs a glass full of champagne well before they’re supposed to be serving them, just like Sugawara. If it works for him, it will probably work for Akaashi. He sits down next to Kozume, sipping his champagne.

“We can be nervous together,” Akaashi says, staring at the wall in front of them and Kozume sighs.

“I’ve never had that before,” he mumbles into his knees and Akaashi snorts.

“Either have I, Kozume-san.” He stirs his champagne, pursing his lips.

“Kenma,” the author responds a little too forcefully. “You can call me Kenma, Akaashi-san.”

“Akaashi is just fine,” he replies immediately before processing what Kozume said. “Kenma? I can call you that?”

“You’re older than me, so I guess it’s only fair.” Kozume shrugs, averting his eyes. Akaashi watches him, watches the way his eyes widen slightly before they return to their original size, the way he tries to hide behind his hair when he’s nervous.

It’s the side of Kozume Kenma he’s been lucky enough to see, and he’s grateful.

“That ring,” Akaashi says, pointing at it. “What is it?”

“A gift,” Kozume replies, pressing it in between his fingers. “Suga-san gave it to me for my seventeenth birthday. It’s engraved on the inside that reads _The Lone Claw that scratches down in the night._ On the top, it says Kozume Family. He thinks I have a strong name.”

“ _Kozume_ reads as the lone claw?” Akaashi clarifies and Kozume nods, turning the ring on his finger again. Sugawara fiddles with the sheet over the painting and sighs. He looks at Akaashi and gives him a smile.

“Are you ready?” he asks and Akaashi stands, offering a hand to Kozume. He takes it, white glove grasped in Akaashi’s dark hand.

“We’ll see,” he says to Sugawara and the author smiles.

 

A lot of “famous” people, a lot of champagne. That’s all Akaashi really remembers from the night. That, and Sugawara crying when Kozume gave a very nervous speech.

Akaashi feels eyes on him the entire time. Sugawara has no doubt telling everyone who he was, which is too be expected. He doesn’t feel uncomfortable, and once the painting is presented, he feels calm when people praise him. It’s nice to be recognised, to be praised and acknowledged for his talents. Multiple people said he was too young to be this good, many said he was too pretty to be the one behind the canvas but either way, he was grateful for the feedback.

His painting sat next to a small podium, Kozume’s characters features blending into the gallery as a piece. Her blonde curls blended into the background, the crow perched on her shoulder illuminated by the light of the neons signs in the alleyway. A cat’s behind can be seen on a fire escape ladder, its tail long and stretched out behind the crow. Many lights flicker down and Akaashi feels nostalgic of Kuroo’s umbrella painting with the brush lights of traffic and headlights.

Kozume finds him halfway through the night near the painting, shaking his hand and thanking him for everything. Akaashi smiles nervously, frowning.

“You sound like you’re saying goodbye?” Akaashi says and Kozume shakes his head.

“I hope to work with you again,” Kozume says, giving him a smile. “You’re… You’re a great friend.”

Akaashi feels his chest warm and he smiles. “And you are the same to me, Kenma-kun. Thank you as well.”

Kozume nods, his eyes shining and a small smile on his lips. Akaashi smiles back and Kozume takes the plunge, hugging him tightly. Akaashi pats his head and rubs his back, smiling into his hair.

Kozume pulls away, his eyes widening. “You have someone,” is all he says before slipping into the crowd. Akaashi frowns, looking around. 

It’s kind of hard to miss a six foot four man who’s staring right at you so Akaashi is startled when he meets the man’s eyes. Olive brown hair with eyes the same colour to match adorn the man’s strong features and he crosses the distance between himself and Akaashi quite quickly with his long legs.

“Akaashi Keiji,” is all he says and Akaashi swallows. His voice is extremely deep and he’s almost half a foot taller than Akaashi. He’s intimidating, to say the least and Akaashi looks up at him, almost stepping back. His voice sends shivers down Akaashi’s spine and it’s not a good thing.

“Yes?” Akaashi replies, surprisingly calm. The man blinks slowly, his mouth tightening.

“Sugawara told me about you,” he says and Akaashi finds himself glancing for Sugawara nervously.

“That I’m a painter?” Akaashi replies, meeting his eyes again. Christ, his eyes are completely different to the ones he’s used to. They’re almost dead and if Akaashi looks long other he might shiver again from how cold they seem.

“My name is Ushijima Wakatoshi.”

Akaashi looks back up at him, blinking. Last time Akaashi heard that name, Kuroo had mentioned it offhandedly, saying he was an art critic. Nothing else had been mentioned and he swallows.

“If Sugawara didn’t tell you, I’ve been looking for new artists,” Ushijima says, face completely blank. “I saw your painting, of course, and I thought your style was familiar. Have you painted for a Hinata Shoyo by chance?”

“Yes,” Akaashi replies, his eyebrows creasing. “He’s been one of my customers from the start. Have you seen my work in his tea shop?”

“Yes, I have.” Ushijima gazes at Akaashi’s painting. “It’s everywhere in that shop. I was quite surprised.”

He’s eyeing Akaashi’s artwork like a piece of meat and Akaashi isn’t sure if that’s good or not. He feels uncomfortable and he’s hoping it doesn’t show on his face. “Yes, Hinata Shoyo is one of my loyal friends and customers.”

Ushijima lifts his chin, giving a curt nod. “I’d love to give you a space for an upcoming artist exhibition. But…” His smile is all but kind when he turns his head back to Akaashi. “I’m sure you know of Kuroo Tetsurou, yes?”

Akaashi stares at him, his eyes narrowing. “What about him?” he says, a little too snappily but it all comes down to Ushijima’s answer now on whether or not Akaashi will accept. “What has this got to do with Kuroo?”

“He looks dirty,” Ushijima says like it’s not an insult, lifting his chin. He gazes at Akaashi’s painting and Akaashi feels the need to smash it over his head in a minute. “A street artist, yes? If you want this space, think about the image you’re giving yourself.” He sighs. “If you think his… dumpster scraps… are art then…” He shrugs his shoulders, turning on his heel and ending the conversation with Akaashi fuming after him.

His anger was all but slow. Akaashi feels the room spinning and the warm feeling Kozume left is replaced with burning, white hot anger. Akaashi realises why Kuroo was so scared of him becoming well known now. It’s people like Ushijima that Kuroo was afraid of Akaashi becoming.

 

Akaashi rings and rings, but Kuroo doesn’t pick up. Bokuto goes to his house but Kuroo pretends he isn’t home. He keeps reading the same lines from Kozume’s books over and over again, but for what reason?

He falls. There’s a lump in his throat that won’t go away and he can’t wait until the day it chokes the life out of him. He doesn’t cry or scream. He just lets it boil until it’s burning a hole in his chest. He paints recklessly, wishing, _wanting_ , for it all to mean _something_. He doesn’t want to feel like this.

What is he _doing?_ He’s twenty-three and painting on walls that barely anyone looks at unless they’re blackout drunk that will never remember his work. He wants something. Recognition? Maybe. Fame? Hardly. His art isn’t suited for the markets like Akaashi’s nor the galleries that Akaashi is almost in to. He’s only ever seen one gallery, and that was because he broke in. Terushima had been the one to snap him out of that delusion when his mind finally listened to the sirens. 

He doesn’t know what he wants anymore. He’s done with turning the corners other to find more dead ends. He just wants to paint until he can’t paint anymore, wants to paint until he can think. 

What’s Akaashi doing nowadays? It’s nothing Kuroo would know about. Akaashi doesn’t have time for him anymore, despite the constant calling. Every time he answered, Akaashi would snap at him so what’s the point in answering now?

Akaashi’s hiding things from him. It’s not even the fact that it’s Kozume anymore. Eight years feels like nothing to him after letting this brew for so long and he’s not sure he even knows why he’s angry anymore. 

He said he was going to disappear and he’s hoping he’s done it by now. It’s been almost a month.

He takes his bag of paint cans, taking a deep breath when it rattles noisily. He shakes up the black and sprays it across the wall. He knows when Bokuto appears next to him, because the air somehow changes when Bokuto enters it. He knows when Bokuto pulls the can from his hand and brings him into a hug. He doesn’t respond, staring at the one bright yellow cat eye he was able to paint before Bokuto showed up.

Bokuto doesn’t let go for a while, even though Kuroo never returns the hug. Kuroo doesn’t realise he’s crying until he feels a tear slip down his face and onto his lip, stinging at the cut already there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> merry christmas/happy holidays! i hope you all who have made it this far are having a good day/night!  
> feedback is always wanted!  
> flowerboyayato.tumblr.com


	11. Surrender or run

Don’t spray paint in broad daylight.

It should be a common rule, and it is. Kuroo knows this, Bokuto knows this. Even Terushima, the most reckless of them all, knows this. You don’t paint in daylight because why would you be that stupid? If you’re going to do it (and why would you? Graffiti is already illegal so you’d be pretty stupid to risk it), don’t get caught; simple. If you do get caught, no one knows you. Say goodbye to your friends because they won’t cover for you. You’re on your own, so deal with the stupidity.

Basically, you’re only allowed to be stupid if you don’t get caught. It’s harsh, but it’s a dog eat dog world out there. Or a _rat eat rat world_ , as Kuroo likes to call it.

Kuroo lives by that, the whole “you don’t paint in daylight”, as do Bokuto and Terushima. He and Bokuto have ran from the cops before and it’s never fun for anyone. There’s cussing, cursing, cuts, scraps, pounding hearts and heads, maybe even broken bones. But then again, it’s unspoken rule that you can’t be a street artist without having to sprint from a dispatch of sirens.

But when Kozume’s new book comes out, titled _The Yellow Lily_ , three days after Akaashi left him eight voicemails that he never checked, Kuroo can’t simply wait until three in the morning to search the city for a random wall that won’t get him in too much trouble. He’s felt too lost, too abandoned by Akaashi, too angry and itchy to paint something, literally _anything._

The world seemed to be on his side because he found the perfect place that day. Almost completely untouched, near a market so someone was bound to see it. He had his paints and Bokuto on hand so he started painting like an idiot while Bokuto gaped at him.

Bokuto had warned him frantically of course, tossing glances from side to side for anyone looking, but Kuroo insisted he’d be quick. 

“You’re gonna get us both caught!” Bokuto had said, eyes wide as Kuroo painted the faceless woman that was printed on the front page of Kozume’s newest novel, the one grasped tight in his hand. 

“It’ll be fine!” Kuroo hissed back, shaking the paint can up a little more. He laid down a base of her long blonde hair, losing himself in the scent of paint. He pulled his bandana from around his neck up and over his mouth, squinting as the paint coated the walls. He nodded at the loose base of the character in satisfaction and began taping to do details on her shirt when he heard the sirens. 

Bokuto’s eyes widened and he turned away quickly. “I told you!” he says as he snatched up Kuroo’s bag by the strap, scoring his knuckles along the concrete floor.

Kuroo rolls his eyes in annoyance, jumping over the little bag of trash at the mouth of the alley. He started running, knowing Bokuto was following after him. He couldn’t hear what Bokuto was screaming over the blood in his ears and at this point, he didn’t care.

He fucked it up, clearly. That much was obvious and Kuroo knows when something is his fault. He fucked everything up, okay. He was going to get caught which was obvious from the start but Kuroo hadn’t had it in him to care. Maybe he should have asked Terushima what it was like to spend the night in jail.

The sirens were deafening, to say the least. All sirens are. He and Bokuto ran through the markets like mad men, jumping over the small boxes of fruits and vegetables. Bokuto tossed Kuroo’s paint bag into an open storm drain, not bothering to make sure it disappeared before the two of them gripped each other’s hands, running and jumping over boxes and milk crates.

The two of them having free running experience was useful. They dodged people, splitting themselves up when the officers were dispatched on foot.

Luckily, this wasn’t Akaashi’s market. He wouldn’t see Bokuto and Kuroo running for their lives as policemen chased them down, which Kuroo (despite everything) was thankful for. Bokuto’s grip on his hand is comforting when they rejoined, replacing the dull ache in his heart and the pounding in his head. Bokuto’s face was screwed up in anguish and he looked as scared as Kuroo felt.

Kuroo swore when he stumbled suddenly, a man with white hair quickly catching up to him. His badge seemed to catch the light and Kuroo took a sharp breath as he watches him catch up. Bokuto lets him go in his fall, looking at the swarm of policemen and swallows. He looks terrified and Kuroo clenches his teeth.

Kuroo reaches up quickly, throwing his paint can back at the policeman. Bokuto helps him up and starts running again, barely hesitating to glance at Kuroo’s bloody leg. He turned a corner and saw another police car, cursing as he turned around. Kuroo fell back, letting go of Bokuto’s hand when his ankle decided to give out. Bokuto backs himself into a wall while Kuroo lays on the ground, his chest raising and falling rapidly as the gravel digs into his palms. The policeman from before caught up to them, cornering them with an angry glare. Kuroo laughed dryly, dropping his head while Bokuto scowled at the police that approached them.

“This is it,” Kuroo whispers up at him, his expression pained and Bokuto clenches his jaw.

 

Bokuto stood awkwardly at the phone, regretting Kuroo’s pressure filled actions. His head hurt, his knuckles were dried with blood and the phone was cold against his ear. The speaker smelt like cigarettes and beer and Bokuto distantly wondered if Terushima had used this exact phone. He hesitantly dialled Akaashi’s number, sighing heavily when he picked up.

 _“-Sorry, I have to take this,”_ Akaashi’s voice comes scratchily through the line. _“Akaashi Keiji speaking. Who am I speaking to?”_

Bokuto glanced over at Kuroo who was yawning before waving a hand over his beaten up leg. Bokuto sighed, the phone pressed close against his ear. “Hey, Akaashi… It’s- uh- it’s Bokuto. Are you home right now?”

 _“Bokuto-san?”_ Akaashi pauses, mumbling coming from his line. _“I’m not home at the moment. Should I be?”_

“No, you don’t-" Bokuto looked over at Kuroo again, who shook his head. “Tetsu and I got into some trouble,” he says instead, bracing himself for Akaashi’s answer.

Akaashi’s reply was instant, which startled Bokuto. _“What kind of trouble?”_ he demands and Bokuto grimaces at his tone. There’s more muttering and mumbling from his end and Bokuto has half a mind to remember he’s at the banquet thing.

“We got arrested.” Bokuto bites his lip, almost drawing blood in anticipation. Akaashi doesn’t respond for a while. Bokuto grimaced again when he heard his voice.

_“Who was it?”_

Akaashi doesn’t really get angry that easily. If he does, it’s usually worry filled anger. Something that Bokuto is experiencing right now from him. He can’t imagine Akaashi when he’s genuinely upset.

“I should have stopped him,” Bokuto says quickly, glancing back at Kuroo. He presses the phone closer to his ear, gripping it tightly. Akaashi sighs but Bokuto keeps talking. “He was painting and I was watching him but I didn’t do anything to stop him because he just kept going and he didn’t-“

_“Bokuto-san-“_

“I should have stopped him, but Kozume’s book just came out! And he wanted to paint the front cover! So-“

“Bokuto-san.”

Bokuto swallows, looking down. “I… I need your help,” he confesses, taking a sharp breath. Akaashi sighs again and Bokuto knows he’s closing his eyes in though.

 _“I know,”_ is Akaashi’s reply. _“Give me some time. I’ll… I’ll be there soon. Just be safe.”_

“I will,” Bokuto replies. “Thank you. So much. I’m-”

_“Don’t thank me yet. I’ll be there soon.”_

Bokuto hangs up, smacking his fists into the wall. A guard takes him back to the holding cell and he slumps down next to Kuroo.

“What happened?” Kuroo asks, looking at him. His knuckles are stained with paint while Bokuto’s are freckled with dried blood. “Did he say anything?”

“I think he’s coming?” Bokuto answers, frowning. He sighs. “He sounded disappointed… I don’t know what he’ll do when he’s here.”

“If your best friend and boyfriend got arrested, don’t you think you’d be a little disappointed?” Kuroo replies, smirking at him. His face fell. “Was he mad?” he asks quietly.

Bokuto looks at him and realises with a sharp pain to his head. Kuroo and Akaashi haven’t be speaking recently. Kuroo looks scared and sad and Bokuto can’t begin to imagine what Akaashi will look like when he sees them both.

“Probably will be…” Bokuto replies sadly. “I just wanna get out of here.”

“Bail’s pretty high,” Kuroo says. “I don’t know how Keiji will help us. He’s not poor, but he ain’t rich.” 

Bokuto nods slowly. He leans his head on Kuroo’s shoulder, closing his eyes. Kuroo rests his head on top of his friend’s and sighs, patting Bokuto’s thigh.

 

Akaashi hung up his phone, putting it into his pocket. Kozume’s gold eyes watched him as he tried to collect his thoughts. Sugawara’s eyebrows furrowed in concern.

“Did something happen?” Sugawara asks, stepping forward. “Are you alright?” His tone is gentle and his hand around Akaashi’s bicep is strong. Comforting, just like Sugawara’s entire being is.

“My boyfriend was just arrested,” Akaashi says bluntly. Sugawara’s eyes widen and he blinks. Kozume straightens but his face is mostly the same. “Along with my best friend. Who I haven’t spoken to since after I met Kozume.”

Sugawara looks extremely concerned, much like a worrying mother. Kozume only studies Akaashi with calculating eyes like he’s been doing since day one.

Akaashi doesn’t actually know what he feels at this point. He’s still angry from Ushijima’s little stunt, and he feels a cold shiver travel through his spine despite it being quite warm in the banquet. 

“Come here,” Sugawara urges, leading him towards a chair. “Let’s sit down and figure this out. Who called you? That Bokuto boy?”

Akaashi snorts, more at Sugawara’s tone. He feels like a teenage girl that just broke up with her boyfriend and Sugawara was his mother listening on the other line. “Yes. Bokuto-san called me.”

“Are they okay?” Kozume says as he ties his blonde hair back. His suit brunches up but he smoothes it down once he’s finished. He doesn’t look particularly scared, nor worried. He just looks like Kozume and Akaashi is weirdly grateful.

“They’re fine,” Akaashi answers, sighing. “I’ll have to go down there.” He run his fingers through his hair, leaning his hands on his knees. “I don’t know how I’ll-“ He cut himself off. How could he help them? He couldn’t pay bail for one of them, let alone both. Sure, he had earned money from Hitoka’s painting along with Sugawara’s payment for the painting but he highly doubts he’ll be able to pay bail with just that.

“I’m so sorry to end this so suddenly,” Akaashi says quickly, glancing at both of them worriedly. Kozume stares at him, his eyes and face completely blank. He looks almost pissed off but if he does, he doesn’t voice it. Akaashi stares at him, eyebrows lifted until Kozume replies.

“It’s fine,” he replies, looking at Sugawara. The silver haired man laughs, covering his mouth. His face relaxes as Akaashi watches Kozume, frowning.

“What are you planning?” he asks, straightening up a little bit. Kozume looks blankly down at him, a small furrow in his brows.

“Going with you to bail your friends out…?” Kozume glances at Sugawara, his frown deepening. “Was that not obvious?” he asks quietly, eyes widening slightly.

“Oh no, it was obvious,” Sugawara chuckles, hand muffling his words. “I just think Akaashi-kun is stunned at your actions.

“I think all three of us are stunned at each other’s actions tonight,” Kozume says, tightening his tie up to his throat.

Akaashi makes an awkward face, recoiling a little and shakes his head. “No, I couldn’t ask you to do this,” he says quickly, shaking his hands. He stands up, glancing between the two. “I’m not- You don’t have to do this for me! I’ll find a way to-“

“I’m doing this to repay you,” Kozume says, holding a hand up. He has the same effect as Sugawara did in the kitchen a few days back and Akaashi immediately shuts up. “Though you’ve said I don’t owe you, I want to give this back to you.”

“I can’t do-“

“Shut up,” Kozume replies easily, waving his hand. He takes a step towards the door, looking over his shoulder. “This is my gift to you.”

Sugawara laughed from behind his hand again, pushing up his glasses. “It’s rude to refuse gifts,” he sings, smiling at Akaashi. “I can tell Ushijima some random story to hide you. I don’t think anyone will have a problem with it since I can hand over any messages to you. Go help your friends.”

Akaashi glanced between the two of them, his heart pounding in his chest. “I can’t-“

Kozume groaned, walking towards the door. “I don’t drive,” he says bluntly, frowning. “You’ll have to take me there.”

Sugawara smiles at Akaashi, clasping him on the shoulder and shaking his hand. “Take my car, Akaashi-kun. We’re friends now, wouldn’t you agree?” He pulls out his keys, jingling them.

Akaashi stares at him before sighing, catching Sugawara’s keys in his hand when he throws them and Akaashi disappears out the door behind Kozume.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> happy new year!! here's an update lol.  
> thank you for reading if you got this far!!  
> flowerboyayato.tumblr.com


	12. My Best Friend, Kuroo Tetsurou

The policeman barked at Bokuto, pulling him out of the holding cell. Bokuto stumbled, meeting Akaashi’s eyes. He immediately swallowed, trying to hide behind his hair. A short blonde stood behind him, his long brown sweater covering his hands as he held a cup of tea. Bokuto doesn’t say anything but he knows for a fact that it’s Kozume. It’s hard not to recognise those roots.

“Akaashi, I-“ Bokuto began but Akaashi cuts him off with a hand.

“Are you hurt?” he asks simply, looking at him with narrowed eyes.

Bokuto stood up straight. “I’m fine. Tetsu has a few scratches, but we’re both okay.” He tilts his head, frowning. “Actually, Kuroo’s leg is pretty jacked up but it’s not broken.”

Akaashi looked at the holding cell, spotting Kuroo playing paper-scissors-rock with a spiky haired redhead. Kuroo grinned as the redhead tossed his head back, groaning loudly. His leg was propped up next to the redhead, dried blood on his dark skin.

“Ya keep winning!” the redhead yells, his mouth stretching into a grin. Kuroo smiles at him, smacking his knuckles with his own hands.

“Master,” he laughs, dusting off his hands and pointing to himself. He glances over at Bokuto before seeing Akaashi and straightens. Akaashi raises an eyebrow before looking away, feeling guilt wash over his body. He stares at Bokuto before breaking, rushing forward and hugging him tightly. Bokuto stiffens, his mouth slightly parted as he looks at Akaashi.

“You scared me,” Akaashi whispers, screwing up his face. He buries his face into Bokuto’s shoulder, taking in his scent and warmth. “So much.”

Bokuto wrapped his arms around Akaashi, breathing in his scent. Akaashi settles, letting his shoulders drop as Bokuto, threads his fingers through Akaashi’s hair. Kozume sets his tea down, shaking the Sargent’s hand firmly before tapping Akaashi’s shoulder.

Akaashi pulls away, Bokuto’s hand still on his waist. Kozume nodded to him, looking up at Akaashi with calm golden eyes.

“I spoke to Sawamura-san,” he says quietly, shifting his feet. “Your friend didn’t make it very easy to make it seem like it was a misunderstanding. But luckily,” Kozume says quickly when Akaashi opened his mouth, “Sawamura-san actually knows Kuroo’s art.”

“Not to mention he’s Suga-san’s boyfriend,” Akaashi mutters. He glances at Kuroo before sighing.

“That too,” Kozume agrees, looking at Bokuto. “Kuroo-san is a lot more famous than he thinks.”

The white haired policeman wrenched Kuroo out of the holding cell, the street artist brushing himself off while scowling. He stares at Akaashi, looking hesitant. His yellow eyes are dark despite the bright lights of the room.

Akaashi sighs. “Whatever happened to you, I don’t care anymore,” he says, dropping his arms. He holds them open wide, readying himself for Kuroo to squeeze the life out of him. “Come over here, won’t you? I’m not suddenly Osumu Dazai.”

“You know I don’t get those jokes,” Kuroo laughs, rushing towards him. He hugs Akaashi, kissing his temple. Akaashi screws up his face but doesn’t bother to push him away. Not even when Kuroo picks him up, hugging him like a stuffed animal.

“You got no idea how happy I am to see- oh my god.” Kuroo swallowed, meeting Kozume’s eyes over Akaashi’s shoulder. He lowers Akaashi who only smirks. The blonde looks at him, blinking once. 

“You…” Kuroo glances from Kozume to Akaashi and shakes his head in confusion. “You’re- You’re _him._ K-Kozume Kenma. You- I’m- _what the fuck._ ”

Kozume lifts his chin and nods slowly. “I am Kozume Kenma. You’re Kuroo Tetsurou, so I hear. A street artist.”

“Ye-Yeah… That’s me.” Kuroo shifts, looking at Akaashi. “Why is _Kozume Kenma_ here?” he says through gritted teeth. Akaashi rolls his eyes.

“He’s the reason you’re not pissing in a metal bowl,” Akaashi hisses, crossing his arms. Kuroo licks his lips, swallowing hard. “You should thank him.”

“It’s fine,” Kozume says, shrugging his shoulders. “Think of it as repayment for the art,” he adds to Kuroo with a twinkle in his eyes.

Kuroo’s yellow eyes widened. “You know about my art?” he says quietly, stepping forward. Kozume stares at him as Kuroo inches closer.

“I know of your art,” he replies calmly, meeting his eyes. “I like it. You paint my characters very well. I appreciate it.”

Kuroo’s lips stretched up into a smile. “Kozume likes my art,” he laughs quietly. He turned on his heel, smacking Bokuto’s arm. He slid around the precinct, dancing with random people who should have been currently in interrogation.

“Kozume likes my art!” he announced, somehow getting applause from one criminal to another. The redhead from before held his hand out through the bars and Kuroo highfived him, smiling. 

“That’s Tendou,” Kuroo says, cocking his head at the redhead when Akaashi frowns at them. Tendou’s arms lean on the horizontal bar and he waved, bandaged fingers and bandaid covered arms shifting.

“Ya think ya can get me out too?” he asks hopefully and Kuroo shrugs. Sawamura shakes his head, glaring at him. Tendou pouts, his mouth curling.

“Sorry dude,” Kuroo says, giving him a sympathetic smile. “Maybe for future reference, don’t stab your friend.”

Tendou sighs, but he doesn’t look sorry. “See you next time then, my brother,” he tells Kuroo and the artist grins.

“‘Course. Maybe you can beat me,” he says and Tendou grins a goofy grin as Akaashi cocks his head towards the door.

 

“This conversation isn’t over.”

Akaashi’s words pierce Kuroo’s skin and if the situation wasn’t this serious, he would have called him a mother. Bokuto is looking out the window, craning his neck to look at the sky. He looks calm, eyes twinkling. Kuroo feels calm just looking at him, his childlike expressions making Kuroo feel young.

“I know it’s not,” Kuroo replies to Akaashi calmly. Kozume sniffs and Kuroo leans forward, staring at him. Kozume meets his eyes and they stare at each other before Kozume looks away and Akaashi sighs.

“I get that everything-“ he starts but Kuroo places a hand on his shoulder. He grins at him, giving a little giggle.

“You can chew me out when we’re alone, how’s that sound?” he offers and Akaashi growls in his throat. His hands tighten on the stirring wheel and he sighs.

“Fine,” he spits, eyes focused on the road. “But this is Suga-san’s car. Dirty it up and I will not hesitate to strangle you.”

Bokuto accidentally winds down the window with his elbow and yelps, Kuroo shoving him into the door. Akaashi turns in his seat with a look of pure fire, Kozume’s hand immediately grabbing the wheel as Akaashi begins to fume. 

Kuroo howls when the car stirs to the right and Akaashi turns back quickly, hands on the wheel again. Kozume collapsed back into his seat and screws up his face, shivering. Akaashi tries to continue act angry but it doesn’t work out. He ends up smiling, along with Kozume’s single snort of laughter at all of the short pandemonium.

“I told you I don’t drive,” Kozume says quietly and Kuroo snorts loudly while Akaashi’s cheeks burn in embarrassment.

 

Akaashi opens his door, taking off his coat and hanging it behind the door. The waves crash against the rocks and he frowns, a cold breeze filtering through his lighthouse. The door to his balcony is opened and he swallows, heading over to close it. 

Michelangelo is nowhere in sight and Akaashi feels strangely alone, despite Kuroo standing behind him. The lighthouse is dark, and he feels strange. There’s a weight in his stomach and he feels it bubbling.

“Bo told me.”

Akaashi turns when Kuroo speaks and stares blankly. “Told you what?” His voice is quiet and Kuroo feels very far away. Akaashi feels scared, as much he doesn’t want to admit it.

“I knew you were working for Kozume.”

Akaashi sighs, the weight growing. Kuroo stares at him, blinking slowly. His face is blank, expressionless. Akaashi swallows and knows that Kuroo either feels betrayed or amused and despite Akaashi being his best friend since they were young, Kuroo is extremely hard to read sometimes. 

It’s times like this that Akaashi wants to scream at Kuroo to say something but he never would.

“I’m not angry,” Kuroo finally says and Akaashi rolls his eyes. 

“Just disappointed,” he finishes, throwing his hands up. Of course Kuroo would say that. “Yeah, I figured. I couldn’t tell you because-“

“Confidential.” Kuroo smiles, lifting his chin. “Keiji, I get it. Don’t sweat it.” He looks away, licking his lips. “I had enough time to be angry. Bo told me ‘cause I asked and he really can’t keep secrets when they’re this big.” He gazes at Akaashi with a small smile on his face. “I feel like we don’t talk much anymore.”

Akaashi feels a spear go straight through his heart. Kuroo is right; they don’t talk that much anymore. Ever since Akaashi had met Kozume, they had barely spoken. After Akaashi stayed at Kozume’s apartment, they had stopped talking altogether.

But they were always like that. Everyone always wants a best friend where they don’t have to talk every day but once they do, they’re always the same as they were.

Kuroo is that friend. He disappears all the time before showing up one night in Akaashi’s bed. Akaashi would roll over and see Kuroo and no matter how angry he was that Kuroo hadn’t called in the past month to tell Akaashi he was still alive, seeing Kuroo’s faded scarred face would settle him.

“We don’t,” Akaashi replies and Kuroo nods. “Hitoka-chan’s painting took a lot out of me and I was immediately asked by Sugawara-san to come work for him.” He shouldn’t be making excuses but it’s the truth.

Akaashi can’t hide his smile when Kuroo straight up tackles him into his bed. Akaashi grunts, shifting Kuroo’s weight on his chest as the tall cat dead weights himself on top of Akaashi.

“You’ve been everywhere,” Kuroo laughs softly. “I’ve just missed you, is all. Kozume must have been big."

“It was,” Akaashi answers, rubbing Kuroo’s arm that’s draped across his chest. “But Sugawara-san is the one who asked me to paint for him.”

Kuroo hums. “I’m real happy for you. You’ve really made it, Keiji.”

“Maybe,” he responds. He looks at Kuroo from the corner of his eye. “How are you, though? Anything new?”

“Nothin’ much. Just painting, as usual. You’re the one that’s been making the big bucks.” He smirks up at Akaashi before snuggling his face into his shoulder. “I’m proud. All I’ve been doing is reading and running across buildings with Bokuto.”

“Buildings?” Akaashi frowns. His eyes widen with realisation. “You’re free running again?”

Kuroo smiles. He hadn’t been free running recently after breaking his wrist on a nasty stack last year. 

“Free running is like painting,” Kuroo tells him and he hasn’t heard that line in a long time. “I just let go and don’t think. I love it, honestly. That broken wrist shouldn’t have stopped me.” He laughs. “I think I might have to keep free running after that arrest.”

Akaashi hums. “I’m glad you’re having fun,” Akaashi says. “It’s good to see you happy. But if I have to bail you out of jail again, I’ll be pissed.”

“Bokuto misses you too,” Kuroo says suddenly and Akaashi swallows. Kuroo sits up and laughs. “He really likes you, Keiji. He kept protecting and defending you when I asked. I shouldn’t have pushed him to tell me, because I know he felt guilty lying to you.”

Akaashi leans on his elbows and stares at Kuroo. “What makes you think I’d drop him?” is he asks.

Kuroo doesn’t respond. He only watches the waves move in the ocean. Akaashi knows he’s being cautious, knows he’s being careful, knows he’s just being _Kuroo._ He’s always been like this. So open on the outside but reserved and fearful when someone gets close. Despite being friends with Akaashi for so long, he still acts like this. Akaashi wants to reach out and grab him but he resists.

“I won’t,” Akaashi says instead. “I don’t know what made you think I would but I don’t think I will. He’s…” Akaashi struggles for a word while Kuroo smirks.

“He’s different,” Kuroo finishes. “He always has been. He’ll never let you go if you’ll keep him around.” He stands and cracks his back. Akaashi watches him before swallowing.

“Do you remember Ushijima?” he asks and Kuroo snorts.

“‘Course I remember him. Kinda hard to forget a guy that big.”

“He approached me at Kozume’s celebratory release,” Akaashi says. He didn’t tell Kuroo he went to that but that’s not the issue at the moment and Kuroo knows this.

“What did he say?” Kuroo urges, sitting down on the bed again. “Did you offer you something?”

“He…” Akaashi swallows. “He offered me a place in his exhibition for new artists.”

“That’s amazing!” Kuroo smiles, patting his shoulder. His face drops when Akaashi looks up at him. “You look scared…” he breathes, a frown on his brow. “What exactly happened?”

Akaashi fiddles with his fingers. “He talked about you. He… He said you were dirty, and you were effecting my image as a painter.” He looks up at him. “He basically said street art wasn’t real art.”

Kuroo blinks at him, raising an eyebrow. “How am I dirty?” he asks, rubbing his cheek. “I’m scarred up but I ain’t that dirty. And street is art. That’s why it’s called street art. I’m a street _artist._ ” Kuroo sighs. “It seems I’m hypocritical then. I shouldn’t have worried so much about your fame when I should have been worrying about myself.”

Kuroo stands again, closing his eyes. He turns to Akaashi, yellow eyes bright despite it being almost three in the morning. “Please, Keiji. Don’t turn this offer away because of me.”

“But I’m-“ Akaashi swallows, frowning. He stares up at him, shaking his head. “I’m not pushing you away _again._ I just got you back. Fuck Ushijima, if that’s what it costs.”

Kuroo laughs loudly, looking at him. “You’re my best friend, Keiji. Be careful.”

“You’ve said that a lot recently,” Akaashi smiles. Kuroo’s grin grows and he kisses Akaashi’s forehead.

“Consider that offer,” he says and Akaashi nods. He stands when Kuroo does, bringing him in for a hug. He looks up at Kuroo and meets his calm yellow gaze. Kuroo’s gaze is always warm and Akaashi feels like a little kid, safe in his arms.

“You’ll always be my best friend, Tetsurou,” he finds himself saying and Kuroo pats his head, kissing his forehead again.

He smiles softly at him once he pulls away. “Thank you for everything.” He turns toward the balcony and throws a smile over his shoulder.

“Talk soon,” Akaashi says warmly.

Kuroo’s smile grows as he closes the door again and takes the way down he’s been taking for years. Akaashi sees him disappear and has half a mind to think he’s fallen but when he sees Kuroo’s wind blown hair as he runs across the beach, Akaashi feels calm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> kuroo is a fanboy  
> things are coming! i feel like im in a dry spot atm with this fic but thank you all for reading this far!  
> flowerboyayato.tumblr.com


	13. Chapter 13

Akaashi wakes late the next afternoon, sniffing. Michelangelo has decided to show up, mewing by his balcony door. Michelangelo usually isn’t awake before noon but neither is Akaashi unless it’s a market day. 

“What is it?” Akaashi whispers, shifting his covers. He stands up, cracking his back. Michelangelo mews again, flipping his tiny tail. Akaashi inches closer to him with a frown, and thinks he hears someone yelling. His frown deepens and he opens the doors of his balcony.

He sees Bokuto down on the beach, throwing rocks into the ocean. He frowns at Bokuto’s angry expression, worry filling his chest. His hand is clasped on his shoulder as he throws and Bokuto basically throws the rocks with his entire body.

Akaashi ducks down the stairs, Michelangelo following after him. The wind blasted him as he opened the door. His hand shields his face, Michelangelo meowing up at him.

“I know, I know,” he breathes, stepping out of the lighthouse. He can hear Bokuto basically screaming at this point as the rocks clunk into the ocean. 

Akaashi watches him, crossing his arms as the wind batters them both. He blinks, sighing heavily when Bokuto drops his arm, hand on his shoulder.

“You’re going to hurt yourself,” Akaashi says simply. Bokuto turns around, his eyes wide. Akaashi blinks, dropping his shoulders. “You didn’t think I couldn’t hear you throwing rocks angrily into the ocean, did you?”

Bokuto shifts his feet, glancing back at the ocean. His hand squeezes his shoulder and he swallows. “I’m… S-Sorry, I didn’t…”

“Why are you apologising to me?” Akaashi asks, stepping towards him. “I don’t think it’s me you upset. What’s wrong, Bokuto-san?”

Bokuto swallows again, averting his eyes. Akaashi reaches up, hand on his cheek. Bokuto’s skin is sickeningly cold against Akaashi’s warm palm. His eyes soften when Bokuto grabs his wrist and presses his cheek against his hand. Michelangelo weaves between them, mewing up at him.

“What’s wrong, Koutarou?” Akaashi whispers, prompting him. Bokuto sighs, pressing a kiss to Akaashi’s hand before his eyebrows lift. He looks slightly in pain and Akaashi feels heavy.

“Tooru’s angry at me ‘cause of the arrest,” Bokuto responds, glancing down at Michelangelo. “Said that I could have fucked everything up if it wasn’t for Kozume.” He bends down, knees cracking. Michelangelo stands and he jumps up, Bokuto catching him. He presses his head under Bokuto’s chin, purring.

“He’s not wrong,” Akaashi replies to Bokuto, watching Michelangelo. “But you’re out. And you’re fine.”

Bokuto sighs again. “He… I ran out on the show and he didn’t care. Hajime tried to help but I was too angry.” He pulls his hand away from Michelangelo, dropping his hand in favour of rubbing his nose. “I-I feel- I can’t… I fucked up, didn’t I?” He looks back at Akaashi but the painter doesn’t respond.

Bokuto hangs his head. “I should’ve stopped him,” he whispers. “I should have helped him. He was struggling and I heard the sirens and I-“

Akaashi takes Bokuto’s face in his hands and roughly tugs him down. “Listen to me,” he growls, eyes narrowed and dark. Michelangelo mews when he wobbles but he doesn’t jump down. “Tetsurou knew what he was doing. He knew _exactly._ Don’t you dare feel guilty for that.”

Bokuto stares at him, feeling his eyes well up. Akaashi wipes away his tears when they come and looks down at Michelangelo. Bokuto lets him down and hugs him. His arms wrap around him as Bokuto cries. Michelangelo meows from below, dropping his ears against his head when the wind blasts again.

“Fix things with Tooru before you go blaming yourself,” Akaashi says and Bokuto nods, taking a deep breath. He pulls away, blinking at Akaashi.

“Akaashi- I-I have to-“ Bokuto hiccups. He sniffs, breathing deeply and closing his eyes. He opens his eyes, blinking a few times and refocuses on Akaashi. “I’m- I’m in love with you.”

Akaashi has had those words said to him before. High school, Kuroo, his mother, things like that. Never once had he felt this way. Completely shellshocked. Out of anything they were talking about, Bokuto blurts that out with seemingly no ounce of regret. 

Akaashi admires him for that, but that doesn’t change his reaction.

He blinks, his eyes wide. “Wh-What did you just say?” he breathes, his shoulders bunching up.

Bokuto sniffs, shaking slightly. “I-If I don’t say it now, then I don’t think I’ll- I’ll ever be able to,” he whispers, looking into Akaashi’s eyes. 

Akaashi doesn’t respond only stares back at Bokuto. The musician looks away, taking another sharp breath. Akaashi feels all the oxygen in his body disappear along with his soul.

“I know it’s the last thing you want to hear right now, but I said it.” Bokuto looks back at him, his eyes searching. 

Akaashi simply nods, his hands against Bokuto’s neck. His pulse is thundering underneath Akaashi’s fingertips so he does the only thing he can think of and it’s kissing him. He doesn’t know exactly what to do in this situation except that.

It makes his pulse skyrocket, but Akaashi doesn’t think Bokuto minds. Bokuto lifts him up, his cold hands on Akaashi’s back which force the man to shiver. 

“I’m…” Akaashi has a habit of being lost for words and thoughts when it comes to Bokuto but Bokuto kisses his again, smiling at him.

“You don’t have to say it,” he whispers against Akaashi’s lips. “I couldn’t wait. I’m-“

“Stop apologising to me,” Akaashi interrupts, a little snappily. “I don’t care. You don’t have to apologise to me for saying that.” He bites his lip before smiling softly. “Thank you, Koutarou.”

“You’re my angel,” Bokuto whispers, kissing his pink nose. “I should be thanking you! You’ve been nothing but beautiful to me.”

Akaashi’s eyes soften and he squishes Bokuto’s cheek together until the musician drops him. “Come on,” he says. “It’s cold out here, and my bed has enough room for two.”

Akaashi’s surprised that Bokuto was never scouted to be an olympic sprinter. Usain Bolt should be jealous.

 

Akaashi wakes up to Bokuto’s face and feels content. His hair is sprawled out across the pillow, pulled over one of his eyes and fluffy to the touch. Akaashi’s hand disappears into the mess of chessboard hair and he smiles.

_I’ve missed him._

Akaashi really has. Shut down mode is over and he couldn’t be happier with Bokuto in his bed, his arms wrapped around Akaashi. To anyone else, they’d shrug nonchalantly but Akaashi feels safe whenever Bokuto’s hands are on him. He feels protected.

Bokuto sniffs, stirring. He reaches up, rubbing one of his eyes and arches his back to stretch. His golden eyes open, bright in the dark room. He turns his head and focuses on Akaashi with a grin.

“Morning, Akaashi,” he laughs, voice heavy from sleep. It’s deep and it sounds raspy but Akaashi only smiles at him, reaching up to kiss him firmly. Bokuto’s toes curl, his arm pulling Akaashi closer to him as he smiles into the kiss.

“Ugh! I’ve missed you, Keiji!” Bokuto laughs when they part, foreheads pressing together. His face drops and he wriggles his nose. “Did everything work out with Kuroo?” he asks in a quieter voice.

Akaashi hums, closing his eyes. “Everything is good now.”

“I’m glad.” Bokuto squeezes him, matching his smile with one of his own. Akaashi feels calm in Bokuto’s grasp and he has missed this. He wasn’t reluctant to admit that.

“What about Oikawa-san?” Akaashi asks gently, drawing circles underneath Bokuto’s collarbone.

Bokuto stills, sighing heavily. He doesn’t reply for a few moments, his eyes distant. “He’ll get over it,” he says eventually, not looking at Akaashi.

“What did he do?” Akaashi asks, his eyebrows pulling up. He sits up, straddling Bokuto’s hips.

“Just yelled,” Bokuto replies, finally looking up at him. 

His eyes. Bokuto’s eyes are the most expressive thing about him. They’re wide right now, lost and round like a child. Eyes are the window to the soul, everyone knows. If they’re the window to the soul, Bokuto must be at a crossroads, looking for the right way out.

Bokuto squeezes his eyes shut, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “He found out about the arrest and stuff, and he went crazy. I don’t blame him ‘cause it’s bad rep for the showhouse but…” He puffs out his cheeks. “Hajime tried to help but I couldn’t stand being in the room. I ran out on the show and Yaku was nice enough to tell me how it went.”

Akaashi nods, laying on his chest again. Bokuto looks at him and sighs, leaning on his arm behind his head.

“Tooru’s always been like that,” he says quietly. “Dancing and acting… It’s his life. He’s told me he doesn’t know where he’d be without it. I dunno where I’d be if he never gave me Silvia.”

Akaashi lays his head down on his chest and sighs. “I think everyone feels that way. I wouldn’t have a life without my paintings.”

Bokuto hums, his chest rising and falling. He lifts his head and stares at Bokuto, squinting his eyes.

“I’m sorry I didn’t respond to you last-“ he starts but Bokuto’s finger presses against his lips, startling him.

“You don’t have to apologise,” Bokuto smiles, his eyes creasing. “I felt ready, so I said it. If you want to say it, you can.”

Akaashi snuggles his head into Bokuto’s chest, and they doze off together, Bokuto’s heart beat drumming underneath Akaashi’s ear.

 

_“Ushijima?”_

Akaashi turns on his heel, carrying his coffee cup. Yamaguchi’s half painted face from a few weeks ago is on his easel and Kozume is on his phone.

The author’s voice is just as quiet on the phone. Akaashi had called him after Bokuto had left about Sugawara’s recommendation.

He sets his coffee cup down, readying his brushes with a huff. “Yeah. What do you think, Kenma-kun?”

Kozume sighs. _“Ushijima has always been… weird…”_ He sighs again. _“He’s always freaked me out. He’s like a bird. Always watching.”_

“An eagle,” Akaashi says and Kozume snorts. Akaashi gives a laugh too before easing into his chair. “But what about what he said about Tetsurou?”

Kozume doesn’t reply for a few moments. _“I wouldn’t worry,”_ he says and he sounds happy. _“Kuro can take a lot more than you might think.”_

“Kuro?” Akaashi blinks before snorting. “How do you know that, Kozume-san?”

 _“I just know,”_ is his reply and Akaashi thinks Kuroo might be getting back at him for stealing Kozume from him. _“Kuro will be okay.”_

“I’m not worried about Tetsurou,” Akaashi says, picking up his brush. “That guy could take a bullet to the head and still laugh at a dad joke.” He smiles at that thought because it’s true; Kuroo can take anything without flinching.

_“Ugh, he likes puns?”_

“Absolutely cherishes them,” Akaashi laughs. “Good luck with that, Kenma-kun.”

Kozume sniffs before sighing again. _“But about Ushijima. What will you do? It will be a good opportunity for you so I highly suggest you take it.”_

“I don’t want the opportunity if he’s going to call my best friend of eight years ‘dirty’,” Akaashi growls, forcing himself to calm down. Kozume is silent and he hears ruffling and some whispering before he replies.

 _“Don’t worry, Akaashi-san,”_ Kozume says and he sounds significantly calm. _“Everything will work out.”_

“How can you be so sure?” Akaashi asks, wondering when Kozume got so confident. It’s strange for the blonde author. For someone who sat down and buried his face into his knees before presenting his own novel, this behaviour is interesting.

 _“I’m just sure,”_ he replies sternly, and his tone sounds dismissive. _“Accept the gallery opportunity and I’ll take over. Take it as my gift for the painting.”_

“But you already returned my gift when you bailed Tetsurou and Bokuto-san out of jail,” Akaashi insists, frowning. “And what do I do about Tetsurou?”

_“Then find another way to pay me back. I heard your paintings sell for a high price nowadays. Contact Suga-san and he’ll help you with the Kuro situation. Trust me, Akaashi-san.”_

Kozume leaves Akaashi’s ears ringing with the beeping of the phone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> late on this because i was at my father's house lol. enjoy i guess heh


	14. Bye Bye, Oikawa-san

Bokuto sniffs, flicking his keys around his finger to open up the showhouse. His own whistling is the only thing in his ears, Silvia strapped across his back. He looks down to open the lock, his hands stilling and his whistle going out of tune.

He can hear voices inside that he recognises as Oikawa, Yaku and Ennoshita and swallows. The door shouldn’t be hanging on its hinges if those three are the only ones in there but it is, hanging in front of him. It looks lifeless and Bokuto feels his stomach sink.

“I _told_ you!” Oikawa is shouting at Ennoshita when Bokuto quietly enters. “I just walked in and _everything_ was trashed!”

Ennoshita is standing with his hands on his hips, studying the remains of the bar. Bottles are smashed and liquor spills all over the floor. The shelves are smashed, wood splintering all over the floor. The cash register is smashed and the tray is empty.

Yaku looks angry, more than he usually does. He walks up the stairs to his piano and presses one of the keys. When the note comes back frazzled, he collapses onto the chair and his lip quivers.

“They scratched it, didn’t they?” Ennoshita asks and Yaku looks sadly at him and nods.

“You know how much it costs to fix a snapped string in a piano?” Yaku asks, gazing at the keys. He looks beyond depressed, his beautiful piano beaten up and broken.

“I’m guessing it’s a lot?” Ennoshita asks softly, his eyes on his bar. He’s probably adding up the damage in his head and all that’s coming up is dollar signs.

“If it costs a lot to fix one string, how much do you think it costs to replace all of them?” Yaku asks and Bokuto’s jaw falls when he sees Yaku’s eyes well up, tears finally slipping down his cheeks.

The showhouse is in ruins, the wooden tables and chairs broken across the floor. Oikawa is in the middle, his hands in his hair with tears cascading down his cheeks as he stubbornly forces himself not to sob. Bokuto can’t say anything; his voice left as soon as he walked in.

“It’s fucking over,” Oikawa whispers as he stares at the floor. Ennoshita looks at him and sighs, rubbing his eyes. Oikawa stares at him, glancing from Yaku to Ennoshita. “It’s fucking over! And it’s his fault!”

Bokuto feels all eyes turn to him when Oikawa points at him. He swallows, eyes impossibly stretched wide with Silvia weighing on his back like dead weight. Yaku heaves a sigh, sniffing while Ennoshita averts his gaze.

“I’m-“ Bokuto feels like he needs to apologise but Ennoshita shakes his head, pulling out one of the only non-shattered bar stools.

“It ain’t his fault, Tooru,” Ennoshita says, hanging his head. “It’s a robbery, clearly. The register is totalled.”

“But why would they trash the instruments?” comes Yaku’s response. He jumps down from the piano platform, his penguin suit flowing out behind him. Oikawa stomps over to Bokuto, gripping his suit jacket.

“Because of _him_ ,” Oikawa growls. “ _You_ got arrested and _you_ fucked it up for _all of us_.”

Bokuto shakes his head, all memories of their last fight coming back. “I didn’t mean to-“

Oikawa groans, shoving Bokuto away. “Won’t you take responsibility for once?!” he screams. “It’s your fucking boy toy, Koutarou! He got eyes on him and they found out about you! I told you to fucking-“

“That’s _enough!_ ”

Oikawa turns around at Iwaizumi’s shout, finding him on the stage. Trust Iwaizumi Hajime to show up at the right time. 

He jumps down, his contact with the floor echoing through the destroyed showhouse. He pats Yaku’s shoulder who only looks away stubbornly.

“Blame him,” Iwaizumi says, walking up to them, scowl on his brow. “You can do it all you want but you know it’s not his fault. Koutarou didn’t trash this place.”

“He-“ Oikawa begins but Iwaizumi glares at him.

“You’re looking for someone to _blame,_ Tooru,” he says, sighing. Oikawa glances between them, tears streaming down his face and Iwaizumi closes his eyes.

“Just…” Iwaizumi waves his hand. “Wait for the owners to get in. He’ll deal with this. All you can do is move on if you’re done screaming.”

Oikawa shakes his head before swallowing thickly. He stares at Bokuto. “Get _rid_ of him or you’ll _never_ act with me, dance with Chikara or play with Yaku ever again,” he spits. Bokuto’s eyes widen again but Oikawa’s face only darkens. “I won’t risk my life for you if you’re going to ignore me.” He pushes past Bokuto and heads out the door. Iwaizumi watches him leave before sighing.

“You alright, Chikara?” Iwaizumi asks, looking over his shoulder at the bartender. The brunette shrugs before his eyes widen. He stands up, pushing himself up on the bar and turning his body, slipping behind the bench. 

“Yes!” he shouts and comes back up with a bottle of aged wine. Iwaizumi laughs and so does Yaku. Ennoshita leans on his hand, waving the bottle before giving a tired laugh.

“Who wants to get drunk and hope this is all a dream?” he asks, a sad smile on his lips. Yaku shrugs, looking back at his piano before heaving a sigh.

“Be careful, Bokuto,” Yaku says once he meets up with him at the other end of the showhouse. “Tooru’s angry, so just let him cool off.” Yaku shifts before looking up at him. “No matter what we work in, your painter might cause trouble for us because of his rising fame.”

Bokuto stares at him, barely feeling Ennoshita pat on his back. Yaku opens his mouth and averts his eyes and Bokuto doesn’t know if he’ll be able to take the next words from the pianist’s mouth.

“It’s hard being a D-list celebrity when everyone only cares about the A-list,” is his parting line and he leaves Bokuto in the shambles of the showhouse, the musician feeling choked as the air suffocates him.

 

Iwaizumi grabs Oikawa’s wrist, spinning him around. The brunette just about flinches like he’s been burned, holding his wrist close to his chest. Iwaizumi’s face is stone and he lifts his chin.

“You don’t think you were a little too harsh on him?” he asks and Oikawa’s face turns dark.

“Defend him all you want,” Oikawa growls, his voice coming out in a hiss. “His boy has gotten scouted by Ushijima.”

Iwaizumi’s blood runs cold and he has to stop a growl from coming out of his throat. Oikawa laughs bitterly, tossing his head.

“Yeah! He’ll turn him against Koutarou and we’ll be left to pick up the pieces of a poor musician’s heart.” Oikawa shakes his head. “He’s scraping too close to fame and once he gets it, it’s lights out for Koutarou.”

Iwaizumi sighs, scratching his head. “You really think that will happen?” he asks and he’s afraid of Oikawa’s answer.

“How could it not-“ Oikawa begins but Iwaizumi waves his hand.

“This Akaashi guy is Kuroo’s best friend, ain’t he?” Iwaizumi asks, looking at Oikawa. “Doesn’t that count for at least something? That should be enough to know he’s not gonna kick Koutarou to the curb once he knows what a thousand dollar cake tastes like.”

Oikawa sighs, watching the people mill past. “He’s… Bokuto’s too easy going. He’ll be stabbed in the back too many times before he realises who did it.”

Iwaizumi takes his hand, pulling him a little closer. “You have to trust him. We all know what Ushijima’s like. He’s been trying to move you out of that showhouse for years.”

“‘Hi, I’m Ushiwaka, an art critic,’” Oikawa mimics, making weird faces. “‘I’ve got friends who’d love to see you for your singing and acting. Call me and we’ll arrange something.’” He rolls his eyes, squeezing Iwaizumi’s hand. “Basically told me to ditch Yaku and the showhouse for “bigger and better opportunities”.”

“Ushiwaka isn’t the problem right now,” Iwaizumi says, staring at him. Oikawa looks away, squeezing Iwaizumi’s hand again.

“I can’t help it…” Oikawa sighs again, cracking his neck. “Koutarou- He’s… I love him too much but I can’t look past this. Unless he figures something out with that painter boy, then…” He shrugs, dropping their intertwined hands and begins to walk down the road, tugging Iwaizumi with him.

“Tooru…” Iwaizumi stops walking, weakly tugging Oikawa back. “You know Kou didn’t mean that. He said it wasn’t him that painted. If you’re gonna blame anyone, blame Kuroo.”

Oikawa doesn’t respond. His mouth tightens into a thin line before he swallows. “I know,” he whispers and he looks physically pained to be admitting that. “I know what he said but I still went off. He got arrested and the showhouse was ruined and I needed _someone_ to blame.”

Iwaizumi looks at him, raising his eyebrows. Oikawa slumps his shoulders, heaving a groan.

“I’ll think about it,” Oikawa says finally, frowning at him. “Will that make you happy?”

“Don’t do it for me,” Iwaizumi growls. “If you’re not going to mean it, don’t do it at all. That’s called being a shitty guy and I thought you wanted to stop that.”

Oikawa rolls his eyes, shoving Iwaizumi away before turning on his heel. He waves his hands, shaking his head as the neon lights change the colour of his features in the night.

 

“Are you alright?”

Bokuto doesn’t know, honestly. He’s sitting in a bar with Akaashi and Kuroo on each side of him. Kuroo’s voice, while usually calming and lighthearted, is just high pitched noise at this point. He’s asking in that way. Like if a teacher caught you crying behind the gym at lunch and as if there’s anything she should know. Kuroo’s doing that, but in his own kind of Kuroo way which Bokuto is grateful for.

Bokuto doesn’t know what he’s feeling. He’s done crying but he’s not done being angry and if drinking is the way to go, then he’ll gladly take it if it makes him feel something.

Akaashi’s hand is on his thigh, just resting and it’s comforting. He’s not speaking but Bokuto finds that it’s probably what he needs right now. Silence.

“This isn’t how I imagined Izakaya…” Akaashi says quietly and Bokuto sighs.

Kuroo sighs too, rubbing his eyes. He looks extremely tired, just like Bokuto and Bokuto feels a little bit better knowing he’s not alone. “We’ll figure something out, don’t you think?” he says, yellow eyes gaining a little bit of light.

“I don’t think we should talk right now,” Akaashi says, staring down at his drink. If Kuroo looks tired, Akaashi must look exhausted.

“I’m just saying,” Kuroo mumbles. “Sometimes it’s better if there’s just something going on in the background.”

“Yes, I understand that but,” Akaashi says, sighing. “Maybe it’s better if there’s nothing at all. Bokuto-san said Oikawa-san yelled a lot.”

“Yeah, I feel ya, but what I’m saying is-“

“Guys,” Bokuto says, holding his hands up and glancing between the two of them. “Just stop talking. I’ll be fine once Tooru in my head stops yellin’.” He gives a small smile.

Kuroo nods, turning back to his drink. “Sorry… But do you know who it was? Or was really just a robbery?”

Bokuto lays his hand on top of Akaashi’s, grasping it firmly. He shrugs. “Ennoshita said it was a robbery but Hajime texted me before and said Terushima and some others think it might be the Snakes.”

Kuroo scoffs. “Snakes,” he growls. “Son of a fucking bitch. Those fuckers just fucking-“

“Kuroo.” Bokuto’s voice is soft. He looks up at the tall cat, his eyes pretty much begging for him to shut up at this point.

Kuroo pats his back, finishing off the rest of his beer before heaving a sigh. He clears his throat, looking down the bar. “We’ll figure something out,” he says and Bokuto doesn’t know if he agrees.

 

“What to do… What to do…”

Sugawara taps his chin, Ushijima’s website pulled up on his computer. “I recommended you but I didn’t realise this would happen…” He still seems lost that Ushijima would do something like this despite saying he expected it. He mentioned that he knew someone once in the same predicament but any further detail was lost as soon as he pulled up Ushijima’s website.

Akaashi wonders just how much Sugawara himself had to give up to be happy.

Akaashi shakes his head, trying to expel his thoughts before heaving a sigh. “I don’t know what to do, Suga-san,” he says, slumping his shoulders because in all honesty, he doesn’t.

“I called him,” Sugawara confesses, rubbing his face. “I called him and asked how it went with you and he told me.”

Kozume coughs from his bedroom before exiting, a towel on his damp hair and a bottle of water in his hand. Sugawara nods to him before shifting, eyes on Akaashi again.

“He never said anything directly about dumping Kuroo-san or whatever,” he tells him. “It’s just clear that he doesn’t like Kuroo.”

Akaashi sighs. He pulls his phone out, immediately dialling Kuroo’s number. The street artist picks up with a grunt after the third ring.

 _“Yeah, it’s me.”_ Kuroo yawns. _“Whadda ya want?”_

“How good of an actor are you?” Sugawara asks before Akaashi can say anything and Akaashi scowls.

“No, I’m not dumping him,” he says, trying to dismiss the subject but Sugawara dives back in.

“This is important, Kuroo-san,” the author all but demands, leaning forward. “Ushijima has informed us that the only way he will willingly work with Akaashi-kun is if he gets rid of you from his friends list.”

“You just said that he never directly said it!” Akaashi snaps. Sugawara shrugs, moving his hands like he’s weighing his options.

 _“Uh…”_ Kuroo clears his throat awkwardly. _“So I gotta disappear for a bit again?”_

“No!” Akaashi yells, startling Sugawara. He shakes his head, screwing up his eyes. “I’m not doing that. I’m not shoving you away again.”

Kuroo sighs but he sounds amused _“Don’t worry. It’s just Ushijima, right? If you get into the exhibition, then everything is fine. You’ll get recognition from Ushijima and someone else will pick you up.”_

“How…” Akaashi frowns. “How do you know that will happen?”

_“Trust me. I’m Kuroo Tetsurou. Got eyes everywhere.”_

Akaashi hates Kuroo sometimes. That’s a strong word but it’s true. He can be so vague sometimes but acts all knowing when in actual fact he’s about to make an ass of himself. Sugawara doesn’t seem to notice but if he does, he doesn’t say anything.

Kozume snorts from the kitchen where he’s eating straight from a tub of ice cream. Akaashi looks at him and can feel the two of them laughing at him. He has to be sure to ask Kozume what he’s told Kuroo later.

“Kuroo-san is right,” Sugawara says. “Ushijima doesn’t own the gallery. People will come in to view all the works and there will be more people like Ushijima who will see your work and want prints and such.”

Sugawara is right and Akaashi knows this. He lies back in his chair before yawning.

“Okay,” he decides. “What’s the plan?”

Sugawara grins while Kozume slams the lid back on the ice cream container.


	15. One step closer

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i realise the chapter name is a christina perri lyric but please spare me

Bokuto is nervous, to say the least.

No one will talk to him, no one will look at him. If he breathes, he thinks all eyes will turn to him and tell him to shut the fuck up. His workplace should never feel this way. People here know him as Koutarou. He shouldn’t feel like an outsider and yet he feels like he’s on the other side of a war, facing his friends as they prepare to gun him down.

Yaku, Ennoshita and Oikawa are there in the showhouse, just like the other night. Bokuto feels queasy. They’re in showhouse that’s in ruins. Oikawa’s angry, like he has been the past few days, Yaku is sad. Ennoshita is just swirling a few ice cubes in a glass, leaning on his hand heavily. All three of them looks exhausted.

“With the damage all added up,” Oikawa says, scanning his notes with a frown. “We need to have an even split for what we’re going to do.” He sounds peeved and why wouldn’t he be?

“The booze is fine,” Ennoshita says, sighing as he looks down. His eyes are distant and his mind must be anywhere but here. “I can find another way to get it so don’t take it out of the funds. I’ve got a bunch of stuff at home.”

Oikawa looks at him before sighing. “But you need the guns as well. They cut one of the pipes so you’ve lost about four choices.”

“I’ll figure it out,” Ennoshita says, shrugging. “Worry about the damage and instruments before the alcohol.”

Oikawa nods slowly, jotting something down before looking up at Yaku. The pianist frowns at him before shaking his head, a frown on his brow.

“I’m with Ennoshita,” Yaku says, holding up his hands. No one has ever seen Yaku look so defeated. “Worry about everything else before my piano.”

“But you need one,” Oikawa insists, frowning at him. He goes to stand up but Yaku shoots him a look.

“I know, but the damage is more important,” Yaku fights back. He shrugs, gesturing widely to the showhouse. “This place is empty. Pianos are damn expensive and if you buy one now, you can’t be sure that we’ll have enough for everything else.”

“The instruments are more important than the booze,” Ennoshita says, lifting his head. “You can’t put on a show without your piano, Yaku-san. And plus, we don’t just piss away money. A piano won’t take all the funds.”

“I get that but-“ Yaku looks helplessly as he’s ignored by Oikawa who begins to write things down, tapping his pen before jotting more stuff down.

“We’ll need to do more for the showhouse than it was before,” Oikawa says, pursing his lips. “We’ve got to recover from this or Ukai won’t be happy.”

“Is he coming soon?” Ennoshita asks, perking up. “It will be good to see him again.”

“Yeah,” Oikawa says. “He won’t be too mad. I went through the most of it with Mori-chan.”

Yaku shivers. He glances at Bokuto and his eyes soften. Oikawa keeps talking, jotting down notes and smiling with Ennoshita despite the situation.

Yaku steps towards Bokuto, raising his hand. He touches Bokuto’s shoulder, eyes widening when Bokuto visibly flinches. Yaku looks up at him with soft brown eyes and Bokuto relaxes under his touch.

“You okay?” Yaku asks, already knowing the answer. “You look like shit.”

Bokuto lowers his head, eyebrows lifting. “Yeah, I’m…” He looks over his shoulder at Oikawa before he looks down again. “It hurts.”

“Oh, Koutarou…” Yaku feels terrible and he rubs Bokuto’s shoulder. “He’s… Tooru’s got a lot going on. We’ll figure something out, won’t we?”

Bokuto doesn’t look satisfied but he nods anyway. Yaku smiles at him and Bokuto always feels calm when Yaku’s smiling.

“And about what Tooru said before,” Yaku says, tilting his head. Bokuto flinches again but Yaku rubs his back again. “I don’t agree with him. I want to play with you.”

Bokuto looks like Yaku just gave him everything he wanted in life and more. “You- You really want to?” he breathes, pressing closer.

“Of course I do,” Yaku smiles. “You’re my one man show, Koutarou. I wouldn’t trade you for the world.”

“You’re…” Bokuto looks like he’s about to cry and Yaku’s afraid he might. He grabs Yaku, hugging him tightly. Yaku coughs, patting Bokuto’s back. He smiles when Bokuto releases him, laughing softly. 

Yaku’s laugh is comforting and Bokuto matches his smile with a big one of his own. “I love playing with you,” Yaku tells him and Bokuto gives a small giggle.

 

Akaashi stares at his emails, blinking. 

Ushijima’s name is plastered everywhere he looks and he swallows. He had responded to Akaashi’s acceptance email and a few of his employees had come to pick up his painting. 

The days leading to the gallery show pass surprisingly easily. Akaashi doesn’t do much; basically sits on his bed and thinks. Despite that, he doesn’t really process anything besides Kuroo sending him congrats with a smile and bloody peace sign _(cut myself on the pavement lol)._

He wonders if this is how all artists feel once their work has been shipped off. Sure, he could paint some more or work on whatever he has lying around, but he can’t bring himself to. He feels conflicted, not knowing how this experience will end. He’s not the only one in the gallery, that’s for sure, but he feels like all eyes will go to him as soon as he goes in. He was the one commissioned by Sugawara Koushi after all and Ushijima Wakatoshi thought his art was good enough to be recommended into that gallery.

He rolls over, sighing. Sugawara wouldn’t have gotten him to this point if he didn’t believe in him. Neither would have Kozume. Those two know what’s good. They know what people want to see and hear. They know how to create something that will please a crowd.

Kozume and Sugawara would not have stayed behind him if they didn’t believe with everything they had that Akaashi Keiji was good enough for this.

Akaashi sighs again, this time feeling his chest clear up a little. He hopes he can sleep well enough tonight so that he doesn’t look like an absolute mess at the gallery. 

Kuroo calls, along with Bokuto, talking about everything and nothing. Akaashi falls asleep on the phone to Bokuto as the musician hums a tune to him. Akaashi wants to ask him if he wrote it, as it doesn’t seem familiar but his eyes are slipping closed and Bokuto hangs up an hour and a half later, hearing Akaashi’s light snores through the microphone.

 

The gallery is huge, to say the least.

Paintings, photos, sculptures, everything, decorate the walls as Akaashi climbs the stairs, Sugawara’s hand on the small of his back. Kozume was already inside, nowhere to be seen but the whispers of women to their friends about his new book release was enough to assure the two of them that he had shown up.

Akaashi glances at the plate of mini cheeses and different assortments of crackers and swallows. He hasn’t spoken since Sugawara picked him up and he’s almost he might vomit if he opens his mouth.

Sugawara’s gaze it on a neon sculpture when Akaashi looks at him, a paper cup of water in his hand. Akaashi looks up from the cup to Sugawara’s face and swallows again. Sugawara looks calm, a small smile on his lips and his movements are smooth when he pushes up his glasses. He looks completely at ease but for once, his aura is calming Akaashi down.

“I feel like I might faint.”

Sugawara spits out his water in a cough into his cup, staring at Akaashi with a hand over his chest. “Geh?!” he chokes, staring at him with wide eyes. Akaashi only stares blankly forward before giving a nod.

“I think I might go throw up,” he says and actually makes his way for the bathroom sign. Sugawara quickly grabs his wrist, warmth encasing Akaashi.

“Akaashi-kun, stay here,” he says, tugging him back gently. Akaashi makes an awkward face before Sugawara wraps an arm around his shoulders.

People walk around them, discussing the paintings and photographs around the gallery. They can both see Ushijima speaking to random people, chatting and clinking drinks. Sugawara spies another waiter with a tray of drinks and does the same thing he did at Kozume’s celebration.

“Drinks,” he says, taking the entire glass in two gulps and Akaashi is surprised by how much Sugawara can drink in the span of six seconds.

“Drinks!” he exclaims when Akaashi hasn’t drunk his. “Go, go! I gotta be drunk before I compliment Ushijima on literally anything.” His voice is quiet when he says this but it’s cheeky enough to force a smile out of Akaashi.

“Suga-san, you really are one of a kind.” The alcohol doesn’t make him feel any better but it’s something in his stomach and it’s something that will make him a little bit more jittery. He doesn’t know if that’s good or bad.

Sugawara smiles at him, slinging an arm around his shoulder again. “Let’s have fun tonight. You put in that painting of Yamaguchi-kun, right?”

“Yes,” Akaashi replies and smiles just from thinking about it. “Yamaguchi-kun has a beautiful face. Freckles everywhere. They’re so fun to paint.” He relaxes a little at the thought of Yamaguchi’s smile.

“He’s beautiful to look at!” Sugawara says, giving his glass to a passing waiter. He looks at Akaashi and ruffles his hair. “Let’s mingle, yes? You have to drive home.”

Akaashi looks at his glass, handing it to Sugawara and thankfully he drinks it slower this time. Akaashi smiles at him and he’s glad that Sugawara’s happiness is contagious, even in his anxious state.

 

“It’s a beautiful one, isn’t it?”

Akaashi contains his embarrassed laughter as Sugawara compliments his painting. Sugawara smiles, pointing out the faint constellations in Yamaguchi’s freckles. The woman smiles at him, recognising him and laughing along as Sugawara gently touches her shoulder.

“Akaashi Keiji is the painter,” Sugawara says to the woman, pointing to his name on the little tag next to it. There’s dots pressed into the wall above the tag and Akaashi feels blessed at that many people like his painting.

“Do you know him?” Sugawara asks and the woman shakes her head.

“I’ll be sure to know of him!” she says, smiling. “I brought one of the prints!”

Akaashi is grateful that the prints of Yamaguchi actually came out looking good. Sugawara is laughing, chatting with the people standing in front of his painting.

“Akaashi Keiji,” Sugawara says, pointing at Akaashi. “There he is. Come here, Akaashi-kun! Talk with your fans!”

“My fans?” Akaashi echoes, walking over to them. He takes the drink Sugawara has somehow snagged and holds onto it. “I hardly think they are, but thank you for your support.”

The woman smiles at him. “It’s beautiful. His features are just…” She shakes her head, eyes widening. “I can’t describe it! Is he even real?”

Akaashi gives her a small smile, thanking her for her support. He tells her about Yamaguchi and she nods along, promising to stop by his flower store if she has the chance. They clink their glasses and look at his work together before her husband calls her and she departs with a handshake and soft smile.

Sugawara stands next to him, wrapping an arm around his shoulders like before. Ushijima is eyeing them from across the room but Akaashi ignores him in favour of listening to Sugawara talk.

“You’re very special, Akaashi-kun,” Sugawara says, rubbing his arm. He smells like alcohol but he knows better than to get drunk at a public place. “To the world and to me. I never thought we would end up how we are now, but I’m grateful we did. I hope you become everything you’ve dreamed of.”

Akaashi smiles at him, turning his head to face him. Sugawara smiles, patting his shoulder as he lowers his arm from Akaashi’s back.

“Stay for a while, won’t you?” Sugawara asks, winking at him. Akaashi frowns but nods anyway, watching as Sugawara walks another the gallery, chatting with people and complimenting paintings as he goes around. Ushijima watches him but doesn’t stop him, instead turning his eyes back to Akaashi.

It could be considered selfish, staring at your own painting in a gallery full of others, but Akaashi doesn’t have it in him to care. He’s proud that he got this far. He’s dream of this since he was young, started working for this when he was fifteen. He’s had too many set backs with his family wanting him to be something else, struggling to be recognised, even trying to get a spot in his market.

He spots Kozume chatting with tall man, hair tied back into a bun. Another man is next to him, curly black hair and blocky glasses sitting on his nose. Kozume meets Akaashi’s eyes and he’s surprised to see how much determination he finds in them.

Kozume says something and the black haired man smiles weirdly, red cheeks and all. Kozume leads the two of them over to Akaashi’s painting, the artist stepping back.

“This is-“ The black haired man cut himself off, screwing up his eyes. He clicks his fingers, trying to jog his memory before he perks up again. “The same artist of your Lily painting!”

“Yes,” Kozume replies warmly. “He’s quite talented.”

Akaashi would never have picked Kozume to be a sweet talker but he’s doing an excellent job. As the pair admire Akaashi’s work, Kozume steps back to speak to him.

“Takeda Ittetsu,” Kozume says, pointing to the black haired man. “And his assistant, Azumane Asahi.”

“Now I know why you were so confident about Ushijima on the phone,” Akaashi says, chuckling to himself. “You’re handing me over to Takeda-san?”

“Would you prefer Ushijima?” Kozume asks and Akaashi shuts his mouth.

“Ushijima isn’t that bad,” Kozume says slowly and with obvious caution. “He’s hardworking and he’ll get you where you need to go in the art world. He didn’t just come from nowhere. But he has a clear line between what he believe is art and what’s not. If it’s not on canvas with the potential to sell, it’s not art.”

“So Takeda-san is someone I want to work with?” Akaashi asks and Kozume nods.

“You don’t want to work someone who doesn’t have the same views as you,” he replies. He glances to his right and sighs. “But be careful. Ushijima isn’t on good terms with Takeda.”

Akaashi follows his gaze and sighs. Ushijima is staring right at them and Takeda sees it too. He tugs on Azumane’s sleeve and the tall man nods. For what it’s worth, Azumane looks frightening at first glance but his eyes are soft as he gazes at Takeda.

“My card,” Takeda says, handing it to Kozume with a smile. “Please call me with an answer from the artist. I’d love to work with him.”

“Thank you, Takeda-san,” Kozume replies, giving him a small bow. Takeda does the same, and so does Azumane. Akaashi watches the two of them leave, their extremely different heights confusing him. They make an interesting pair.

“They act the same, strangely,” Akaashi says absentmindedly and Kozume nods. The two of them stand in silence, gazing at Akaashi’s painting.

“One step forward in the art world,” Akaashi says quietly. Kozume looks up at him before turning back to the painting.

“Yes,” is all he says before the two of them get lost in Akaashi’s painting for the last time that night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *nicholas cage voice* hm. the plot thickens.


	16. Catch Me If You Can

“Mayday at one o’clock.”

Akaashi blinks at Kozume’s voice behind him, who only gives him finger guns before turning and beelining for the mini cheeses. As much as Akaashi wants to grab his wrist and pull him back, maintaining his formal front is most important.

Akaashi does try to call out to Kozume but Ushijima is already beside him, forcing his hand into Akaashi’s and shaking it forcefully. If Ushijima didn’t already intimidate him, he sure did now.

“It’s good to see you here,” he says with obvious displeasure. Akaashi nods at him, containing his frown.

“It’s a pleasure to be here,” he replies stiffly. At this point he doesn’t really care what Ushijima has to say. After the everything he said about Kuroo, Akaashi doesn’t have it in him to tolerate Ushijima anymore, even if he is the ticket to his next big gig.

“Do you know of Oikawa Tooru?”

“That was…” Akaashi can’t stop himself; he’s already talking. Why would Ushijima be asking about Oikawa? “Random. Why do you ask?” It would be no surprise if Ushijima knows about Bokuto if he’s asking about Oikawa.

“One of the artists painted him,” Ushijima answers. “He’s a charming man. I’ve had the pleasure of meeting him before.”

If Bokuto’s izakaya experience is anything to go by, Oikawa is anything but charming. Akaashi schools his expression into a neutral one. “Is he?”

Ushijima nods. “Trust dancers to be stuck up. I’m glad I was able to recruit you. I saw Takeda-san over here before. Did he speak to you?”

“Yes, he did.” _Trust dancers to be stuck up?_ “I heard you’re not on good terms with him.”

That catches Ushijima off guard and he blinks. He straightens a little, fixing his tie. “Y-Yes… Takeda-san and I…” He rolls his eyes. “The art world is a brutal one. It’s not unheard of that art critics are a little rough with each other.”

“I feel like it goes deeper than that.” Akaashi wills his mouth to shut.

“Who are you to say it does? You are not Takeda-san nor me.”

“You’re right. I am not.”

Their conversation ends on an awkward note but Akaashi wants to know why he asked about Oikawa. He asks and Ushijima shifts.

“Oikawa and I aren’t on good terms. He refuses to let me do my job.”

“How so, Ushijima-san?” Akaashi knows he’s basically batting his eyelashes at this point. He’s positive that Ushijima knows what he’s doing but the critic indulges him, just for a moment.

“I’m an art critic,” he says again. “It’s my job to recruit others to boost them into this way we call living.” He sighs. “Oikawa… refuses to let me do that. He belittles me. Makes fun of my title and name.”

“You don’t seem too happy with that.”

“If you weren’t able to paint, considering it’s your job, what would you feel?”

Akaashi considers that and shrugs. “I’d be quite annoyed.”

“That’s exactly what Oikawa does to me. He should be under my wing, dancing and singing. He’s a model too, and I can get him anywhere he needs to be.” Ushijima’s mouth flattens into a firm line. “He could be anywhere besides that deadbeat showhouse.”

Akaashi straightens a little. He side eyes Ushijima before staring straight at his painting. “That… deadbeat showhouse… That was recently robbed, wasn’t it? Did you know?”

“I did.”

Akaashi is positive there’s more to Ushijima than the critic is letting on. Akaashi lifts his chin but doesn’t say anymore. They stare at his painting in silence before Ushijima clears his throat.

“Be in touch,” he says before leaving Akaashi to stare at his back.

Kozume comes back soon after and Akaashi says nothing. 

 

Plans to rebuild the showhouse are tiring. 

Oikawa looks run down, bags hanging from his eyes and his hair flat and pushed back with a hairband. He’s going over costs with Ukai, the two of them chatting switching funds to see what will be the better outcome. Ukai suddenly looks his age and he’s troubled like a man his age shouldn’t be.

Ennoshita has slowly been restocking his cabinets but you can see it in his eyes that he’s not satisfied. As he cleans a whiskey glass, Bokuto wonders if Ennoshita thinks he’ll ever get his top shelf back to its beauty. He had alcohol from all over the world; it was top shelf for a reason. Expensive liquor for the richest of tongues.

Iwaizumi is in the showhouse too, scanning the walls as he swirls his scotch on the rocks in his hand. He looks strangely calm and Bokuto is fearful. Iwaizumi being calm wasn’t a common occurrence and Bokuto always feared for what he might snap at.

Yaku sits at his piano, just staring. His eyes are vacant, empty; he had finished crying long ago. 

Bokuto feels strangled. The showhouse has never been known for being this bare. There’s always someone doing something but now it’s only filled with Oikawa spewing out numbers as Ukai crosses his arms and nods along. It’s never been this dull.

The floor had been cleared, the shattered wooden tables and chairs disposed of. Bokuto had heard that Iwaizumi and Ukai had made a bonfire and wonders if Ukai had finally snapped at seeing his hard work go up in flames.

Bokuto wants to help. He feels so useless, more than he has ever felt in his life. He knows it’s not his fault; he knows this but he can’t help but blame himself. It was only coincidence, like Ukai had said but he feels so disgusted that this has happened to a place that picked him off the ground.

Bokuto knows how he can help. His phone is burning a hole in his pocket and he clenches it in his hand as he strides past Iwaizumi. The raven-haired man only spares him a glance before stepping out of the way.

Bokuto calls the first person he thinks of.

 

Akaashi jumps when his phone rings, frowning at Bokuto’s contact. He answers it, pressing it against his ear. Yamaguchi frowns at him and Akaashi gives him the watch my store signal.

“Good morning, Bokuto-san,” he greets. “It’s quite early. Are you alright?”

 _“I-I’m alright,”_ Bokuto answers and he sounds broken. _“Tooru… He’s going over costs with Ukai-san and it’s… I can’t be in there knowing Tooru blames me. It hurts.”_

Akaashi feels his heart drop and he’s lost for words. He glances back at his stall and sees Yamaguchi chatting with a man and showing off his paintings.

“Why have you called me?” Akaashi finds himself asking before he can stop himself. He can’t do anything about this, as sad as that sounds.

_“I-I had… I had an idea. Will you listen to me?”_

Akaashi would be a terrible human being if he said no. “Of course I’ll listen.”

Bokuto takes a breath before inhaling quickly. _“Wait! Aren’t you at the market? You’re working! I shouldn’t have called you!”_

“Bokuto-san, spit it out, would you?” Akaashi snaps, his face dropping. He takes a breath, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Sorry. Yes, I’m at the market, but it’s fine. What’s your idea?”

_“W-Well… Tooru was saying that t-the showhouse has to come back from this.”_

“Naturally. What have I got to do with this?”

_“I thought that because the showhouse was quite bare at first and we didn’t have a lot going for us besides the performances… Maybe you could do something and paint the walls?”_

Akaashi blinks. He pulls the phone from his ear before swallowing. “You… You know what Oikawa-san will say. He doesn’t trust me, Koutarou.”

 _“It won’t be just you.”_ Bokuto’s tone is dark and Akaashi shivers. _“I’ll get more people. I want to give this back to Ukai-san. He deserves it after everything. Akaashi, he watched everything go up in flames.”_

Akaashi glances around a little nervously before swallowing. Yamaguchi meets his eyes with a frown but he only gives a shrug. “Bokuto-san… I want to help you, I do. But… Oikawa-san reacted the way he did when the showhouse was destroyed. I don’t think he’ll be willing to work with me.”

 _“Tooru isn’t the owner,”_ comes Bokuto’s reply and he sounds exhausted. _“I’ll deal with Tooru. I think he’s in shock still.”_

“Do you know why the showhouse was trashed?”

 _“We still don’t know. Tooru thinks it was the Snakes but we don’t know.”_ Bokuto shifts. _“They know Iwaizumi and Kuroo so I wouldn’t be surprised. No one knows what Iwaizumi works as so it’d be hard to get back at him. This is a blow to Tooru and Hajime is taking it a little hard.”_

The Snakes. They were a group of misfits, known for most of the territorial wars in the city. Kuroo had scrabbled with them a few times because of tagging and it was an understatement to say that he wasn’t fond of the leader, Daishou Suguru.

Bokuto sighs. _“I’ll talk to Ukai-san. But will you help me if he approves?”_

“Of course I’ll help you,” Akaashi replies. Bokuto chuckles softly and Akaashi can imagine his relieved smile.

 _“God… You’re just great, Akaashi Keiji. Absolutely great.”_ There’s chatter from Bokuto’s line before he returns in a quieter voice. _“I gotta go. I’ll call you later with an answer. Thank you for talking with me.”_

“It’s okay.” Akaashi smiles softly. “I hope everything goes well. Good luck, Bokuto-san.”

_“Thanks, Akaashi!”_

Akaashi switches off his phone and pockets it, returning to his stall. Yamaguchi quickly bows before slipping into his own stall. He helps Kageyama who scowls a little before the flowers he’s manhandling sit right and he finally ties a ribbon around them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> REMEMBER ME LOL  
> i lost confidence in this but i had the next chapter written up so i fucked around with it and here it is  
> @owlemoji helped fuel this lmao


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